All I Want for Christmas
by Pemonynen
Summary: It's Christmas 1919.  Mary is married to Carlisle and visiting Downton.  Everything is changing, and quickly, and secrets are coming out thick and fast.  Some series 2 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first fan fiction, but I had to get it out of my system after it had been playing on my mind for a couple of weeks. I wish this would happen (come on Fellowes, don't let us down) but for now, it's just a bit of wishful thinking! I know the title is a modern Christmas song but I thought it fitted quite nicely. Also, all characters etc are the property of ITV and JF, no infringement intended. Rated K+. Thanks for reading!_

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><p><strong>All I Want for Christmas...<strong>

**Chapter 1**

She sighed as the car turned and started up the long drive towards the house. Had it always been so imposing, she wondered. Obviously, she had come up this drive more times than she could count, but this time it was different. It was all different. She hoped they wouldn't ask too many questions. Pulling off her glove, she fiddled around in her little bag and slipped on her wedding ring. The metal felt like a band of ice around her delicate finger. She pulled her glove back on and took a deep breath as she saw her parents, her sisters, and Carson all waiting for her outside the front door as the car slowed to a stop.

"Welcome back my Lady," Carson's deep mellifluous voice filled her ears and her heart as she got out of the car. She smiled warmly at him as he directed her chauffeur and ladies maid. In an instant her family were all embracing her, even Edith. Sybil squeezed her hand through the crush of arms and hugs.

"Darlings!" Her mother's voice rang through the group. "It's very cold, shall we go in?" Mary was ushered through into the main hall, where her sisters released their grip on her, and allowed her to remove her hat and coat, which were taken with a discreet nod from Mrs Hughes. She smiled at the housekeeper, and various feelings started cracking through. She looked around and sighed at the Christmas decorations. Shaking her head, she braced herself and followed her family into the drawing room, where some tea was already waiting for them, along with the Dowager Countess. Sybil immediately headed towards her new husband, who was stood with a tall dark-haired man, and dragged them both over to Mary.

"Hello my Lady," Branson said with his soft Irish brogue, smiling almost meekly at her.

"Just Mary will suffice now Br...Tom," she corrected herself, smiled at him and glanced at Sybil who looked like she was about to bubble over with happiness.

"Mary, this is Dr James Lewis. I work with him at the hospital in Dublin," Sybil nodded to the other man, who was stood quietly observing the three people, and he beamed at Mary.

"Hello, Lady Mary, I've heard a great deal about you. And Lady Edith as well of course, who I met yesterday" he flushed ever so slightly at his own mention of their sister, and Mary and Sybil shared a look and a smile.

"Mary!" The group broke apart and Mary went straight to her beloved grandmother, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hello Granny," she smiled.

"Now where is this husband of yours?" Mary knew it was inevitable. She fixed a smile on her face and gave the room her prepared answer.

"Richard sends his regards, but he cannot spare the time away from his business at the moment. He is truly sorry to miss his first Christmas here," at that she caught her father's eye. His brow was creased in concern. Oh she hoped Sybil hadn't said anything. In a flash though, he was smiling and nodding along with everyone else that yes, it was unfortunate that Richard could not be there, but they were still glad that Mary had been able to make it. Violet had been about to ask more questions but Sybil, sensing that Mary did not necessarily want all of the focus on her, changed the subject as to why exactly Dr James Lewis was with them for the festive season, directing her responses at Mary, as the rest of the family had already known him for a couple of days.

"His family are in America and he would have been all alone at the hospital so Papa said it was perfectly alright for him to celebrate with us," Sybil beamed to the room.

"Yes, I thank you. You're all very kind for letting me be a part of your celebrations," his cheeks were a little pink as he smiled at everyone.

They all talked a little more, and drank a little more tea, until Violet left to change for dinner. Mary headed up the familiar staircase, and to her old bedroom. It hadn't been changed. Thompson, her ladies maid was already picking out a gown for her to wear that evening. It was dark blue silk, with a fine net skirt over the more fitted silk skirt, with thin spaghetti straps and delicate beading on the front. Mary drew in a sharp breath. She hadn't worn that since... She didn't realise that she even still had it. Richard was very keen to ensure that she had all of the latest fashions.

"I thought this for this evening my lady," she held it out, waiting for the approval of her mistress. "I know it's an older one, but it is so pretty," she smiled.

"Yes, that will be fine, thank you. What else have I got to wear?"

"The black silk for tomorrow evening, the red and gold or the cream for Christmas day, the navy for the 26th..."

"Right, yes of course, thank you," she interjected. "Sorry Thompson, I didn't mean to snap. It's just very strange being back here." The woman nodded as she dressed Mary, and then started fixing her hair. Mary let her thoughts drift to before she was married, and this was her only room, and all of the times she had sat in front of this mirror as Anna had worked around her. She frowned as she thought of the maid, who she had not yet seen. She would speak to her later. A knock on the door brought Mary out of her reverie.

"Come in, thank you Thompson. Do you know where you are staying?"

"Yes my lady," she bowed her head as she left the room, letting Sybil pass her to enter.

"Mrs Branson," she smiled wryly at her sister as she turned in her seat, playing with her ring, the metal glinting in the low light as she twisted it around her finger.

"Stop it Mary," the grin she wore betrayed any other feeling she might have felt at her sister's teasing. "What do you think of James?" she sat on the end of the bed and looked eagerly at Mary.

"He seems very pleasant. I think he'll do very well for Edith. That is your intention isn't it?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Is it obvious? Do you think they know?"

"That you're trying to set them up? Darling, I think everyone but them is aware of it," she smiled at her youngest sister. "Marriage suits you." It pained her to say it, but she could tell that Sybil had never been happier. She wished that she could feel the same satisfaction from her own marriage, but then Sybil and Tom had married for love. Sybil beamed again, she was positively glowing. In fact...Mary studied Sybil for a moment.

"Mary, are you-" Sybil's face was suddenly serious and full of concern. Mary bit her lip and was about to answer when Edith entered and stood in the doorway. "Are you ready to go down? Mama was asking." It was like absolutely nothing had changed. The three of them in Mary's room as she finished getting ready, Mama waiting for them...except everything had changed, Mary thought ruefully.

"Yes thank you Edith. You look very nice this evening," both Sybil and Edith stared at Mary as she issued a rare compliment to her middle sister, who was dressed in a warm orange silk and chiffon dress that suited her fair hair and complexion. Mary would have said anything to stop Sybil's line of conversation, but this evening she did genuinely mean that Edith looked pretty.

"Thank you Mary," she blushed, unable her to hide her joy at the remark.

"Marriage seems to suit you as well Mary...you're far nicer than before!" It was meant as an innocent humorous remark from Edith, and they all smiled, but it stung Mary. Not because of the likely truth behind it, but because it was a show, all of it. Inside she was hurting, her heart shattered into a million pieces, but she was not going to let it spoil Christmas. No-one else needed to know. She had managed to fool everyone for years before now. A few more days wouldn't make a difference, and she was certain that she could trust her youngest sister. She waited until Edith and Sybil had left and pulled her ring off, letting it fall to the dresser. She pulled her gloves on, fixed her smile, took a deep breath, locked away all of the emotions that were racing through her, and headed out of the room, head held high.

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><p>Granny had returned for dinner. Tom and James were dressed in their formal evening wear. "He relented, just for me. Just for when we're here and dining with Granny," Sybil muttered in her ear, answering her unspoken question. Mary smiled. She stood and spoke to James and Tom, as Sybil and Edith were occupied with Violet.<p>

"Mr Crawley and Mrs Crawley," Carson appeared in the room and signalled for them to enter. Mary hid her shock and steeled herself. It was inevitable of course, but she hadn't thought it would be so soon. She thought she would at least have another day before she had to see him. She had waited until two days before Christmas to arrive in the hope of not seeing him much. Isobel walked in first. It took him an age to enter, or so it seemed to Mary. And then she saw him. Their eyes met as soon as he walked in. The brilliant blue that stopped her heart. He looked much the same as he had done on the day of Lavinia's funeral. Maybe slightly less pale. However, his expression was completely unreadable, his mouth set in a firm line.

"Isobel, Cousin Matthew, how lovely to see you. It has been far too long," Mary stepped forwards first, smiling brightly, holding out a hand to Isobel.

"Mary! What a surprise! We weren't expecting to see you until tomorrow," Isobel smiled warmly at Mary, whose gaze had now shifted to the woman in front of her. "Where is Sir Richard?"

"He is unable to be here, I am sorry to say. His business...cannot allow him the time away," she hoped no-one had noticed the catch in her voice.

"Mary, you were aware that Isobel and Matthew would be joining us weren't you? I did tell Edith to remind you..." Robert could see through his daughter's facade: the too-bright smile, and the over-friendliness that she used to hide her surprise at something.

"Of course," she smiled, and she looked over at Sybil and Edith who were staring at the floor, their smiles just visible. Isobel looked between the Earl and his daughters and smiled, as if realising something. "Christmas is about spending time with family after all," said Mary, before turning to face Matthew. It was time.

"Cousin Matthew, how are you?" If he was surprised at being addressed by her, he didn't show it. She allowed herself to look over him properly. He still had a cane, but did not seem to be leaning on it as heavily as he first had. He was in his formal evening clothes, and she noticed he was not wearing a black armband.

"I...I am well thank you, Lady Carlisle," he used her married name. It came out far ruder than he had intended. "I am sorry that Sir Richard is unable to join us," he tried to recover. He wasn't sure, but he thought she had flinched at the mention of her absent husband. Their eyes were searching each other's faces. Everyone else had gone back to their own conversations. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary could see Sybil watching them intently.

"Please Matthew; you can still call me Mary. In fact I should like you to. There is no need to be so formal." She was trying, god knows she was trying. She hadn't thought that it would be so hard. His last words to her were now ringing in her ears. She had to be the one to make the effort. He smiled and nodded briefly, "of course La...Mary." He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but they were called in to dinner before he could say anything else. Her face ached from forcing her smile, but it didn't falter as he indicated for her to go ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Why was she here? She wasn't meant to be yet. Christmas Eve, Sybil had said. He thought he'd have more time before seeing her. He knew it was her first visit to Downton since getting married but he had assumed that she would not want to spend too much time there, and would rather be at Hacksby, enjoying life as lady of the manor. She would probably go back there later, after they had eaten. He frowned at himself and realised he should be heading to the dining room. His feelings, that he had locked away so carefully and ignored for the past 8months, were threatening to come out. She looked well, yes. That dress though... He closed his eyes at the memory, and then forced it back just as quickly. His heart both sank and skipped a beat as he realised he was to sit next to her. She was in her old space. No-one seemed to mind though, least of all Sybil, who was ensuring that Edith was sat next to James. He liked James. He had a polite and gentle manner, and a soothing voice, which made him an ideal doctor. They had called round to Crawley House when they arrived; Sybil had wanted to formally introduce her husband to him, especially because he hadn't attended their wedding. He had been surprised in how well he got on with Tom as well. It was quite nice to have other men to talk to, and not just Robert. As much as he admired him, it was not quite the same as having people of a similar age to talk to.

The ladies were seated, and he sat down quickly after, his back still aching slightly, even after all this time. He was so close to her that he could smell her perfume, and he swallowed hard. She seemed tense. Oh she was smiling, but he could tell by her shoulders, and the way her head was slightly tilted, listening, as if on alert.

"Mary is your room alright?" Cora's voice quietened the chatter of the table and they all looked at Mary.

"Thank you Mama, it is. Although any room would have been sufficient." She was staying here. Here. Not at her own house. Here. In her old bedroom. Here.

"Nonsense, that will always be your room Mary," Robert said. Matthew could see his face was full of concern for his eldest daughter. He glanced at Sybil, whose face mirrored her father's. Something wasn't quite right but Matthew couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Everyone ate, and talked, though Mary and Matthew both remained quiet unless spoken to directly. As much as he tried to ignore it, tried to fight it, he was so aware of her presence. Every movement she made, every word she spoke...he was conscious of it all. He could feel an atmosphere between them, not surprising considering their last meeting. And yet, she had been very friendly when he had walked in, maybe it was for the sake of the others, he mused to himself. Dinner went very quickly, and it was time for the ladies to retire first. He watched her retreating back. The pale skin and the chocolate hair were still the same. He was relieved to notice that she had not cut it off, realising that Sir Richard would probably not allow her to anyway. When he'd held her gaze before, those deep brown eyes were still the same, saying both everything and nothing. Her way of walking, the way she held her head...she was still the same Mary, and yet she wasn't. Nothing was the same now, however much it gave the appearance of not having changed.

He was only half-listening to Robert, Tom and James as they debated politics. He was worried. It had been 8months. Why did she still have the same effect on him? She shouldn't. He told himself over and over to forget her, forget how he had felt about her, and he had succeeded...until now. He shook his head slightly, trying to stop his train of thought.

"Do you know, I'm glad Carlisle isn't here," Robert said suddenly. Matthew's head snapped up. Tom and James looked uneasily between the other two men.

"Why? He's Mary's husband..." Matthew didn't know how else to continue. Robert doted on Mary; perhaps more than on his other two daughters, but Robert had used his surname only. He was calling Tom by his first name, and he was the former chauffeur.

"Yes, yes. But I get the sense that maybe she isn't as happy as she could be with him."

"But Mary is not one for revealing her feelings," Matthew swallowed. He hadn't meant to remind himself that actually she did share her feelings, but only when there was no-one else around. "Perhaps once you know him better..." he was defending Carlisle? Matthew was confusing himself.

"Perhaps. I just want Mary to be happy," he sighed, as if distracted, and stood up. "Shall we rejoin the ladies?" they all murmured in agreement. Robert had struck on the one thing that Matthew wanted. More than he wanted to forget her, he wanted her to be happy. At least he wasn't alone in thinking that she might not be.

Mary was sat with her mother and grandmother, nodding along to their conversation. He looked at her carefully, his mind listing possibilities as to why she might not be happy. She had married a very wealthy and powerful man; surely she was wanting for nothing... He didn't think for too long though, he was distracted by the dark silk of her dress contrasting with her porcelain skin. Stop it. Stop it, he told himself. Luckily, he supposed, Cora saved the day and interrupted his thoughts with "so how are things in Manchester Matthew?" Mary's head turned ever so slightly. She caught his eye, a look of surprise flashed across her face.

"Well, thank you," ah. So Mary didn't know that he had moved back there. Or maybe she did. He just could not read her this evening.

"Do you think you'll ever come back to Ripon?" Matthew was stunned. It was a question that could have come from anyone, but it came from Mary. He gripped his cane a little more tightly.

"I don't know yet. Maybe one day. But Manchester is not too far anyway," their eyes were locked. It was as if they were the only two people in the room. How could he have thought...? No. No, it didn't do to dwell, and he had done far too much of that of late.

"No, I don't suppose it is," her voice was slightly less cool than it had been before. Was it indifference? Friendliness? Friendly indifference? Seven pairs of eyes were watching them, all of them remembering the dinners of before... The atmosphere started to tense... Then Violet spoke to James and broke the spell, and they both quickly looked away. The conversation flowed, much as it had at dinner, with Mary and Matthew making only limited contributions when required.

"If you will excuse me, it's been a long day, and I am going to retire now," Mary stood suddenly. "I shall see you tomorrow. Isobel, Cousin Matthew, it has been splendid to see you again. Good night." She smiled, kissed her parents and left the room.

"I suppose Mother that we should be also be leaving. We have trespassed on your evening for far too long." Matthew stood heavily. He wanted to follow Mary, just to speak to her, without other people around and without the walls up, but he knew that was impossible, and not just because of the obvious.

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><p>They arrived back at the house, and he headed straight to his bedroom, having barely spoken to his mother on the way home. She had questions, he knew she would have, but he was currently unable to answer any of them. He threw his cane on the bed and sank heavily onto it, knowing that Molesley would be in shortly. He shook his head and started to pull off his jacket and tie. Molesley appeared suddenly, startling Matthew.<p>

"Is there anything I can do for you sir?"

"No, thank you Molesley. You can go to bed. I can manage for tonight."

"Very good sir," he bowed his head and left the room, leaving Matthew alone with his thoughts yet again. He limped over to his chest of drawers for some pyjamas, but as he opened the top draw, his hand came into contact with something that was neither the thick flannel nor the thin cotton of his pyjamas. He picked it up and closed his hand round it. Bloody dog. He should have returned it to her a long time ago. Without a scratch, he noticed, smiling to himself as he remembered their meeting at the train station. Tomorrow. He would give it back to her tomorrow. Lord knows he had no need for it anymore. He'd had his share of good luck, and bad luck as well, he mused. No. It would be wrong to keep it. Tomorrow, he decided, putting it on top of the cupboard. Then he finished undressing, and climbed into his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mary shut the door behind her and breathed out; releasing a lot of the tension she had felt all evening. What were Sybil and Edith playing at? They were obviously in on something together. And she knew she hadn't been able to fool everyone. It didn't look like Sybil had said anything, but her father and Matthew...God, Matthew... The last time she'd seen him was at Lavinia's funeral, and he had been less than civil to her. She could tell he'd been watching her: it was like a sixth sense that she could tell when his eyes were looking for her, at her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was only here for a week. That was it. Just a week, and then she would not have to see them again for several months.

She reached behind herself and started unhooking her dress, having dismissed Thompson for the evening, needing to be alone after the events of dinner. As she hung up the dress, she wondered if Matthew had remembered it, remembered the last time he'd seen her in it... No. Stop it. That was a dangerous path to visit, she told herself sharply. She undressed quickly, un-did her hair, and pulled her nightgown on and crawled under the covers. As she curled up under the blankets she thought to her conversation with Anna. She'd gone down to the kitchens to be told that she was ill and was resting in bed, and so Mary had gone up to her room.

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><p>"Mrs Bates, may I come in?" she'd said as she pushed the door open. Anna was wrapped in a blanket reading a letter, her eyes red, and Mary knew that it wasn't just the cold that had done that. "No, don't bother getting up. Mrs Hughes said you were unwell, and I was hoping to see you." Mary sat down in the chair that was near to the bed.<p>

"My lady, how are you?"

"I am well thank you Anna. Have you heard anything about Bates?" Old habits, thought Mary, and she smiled to herself.

"Yes my lady. John is...well things are not going as well as we expected them too. The evidence against him..." she could barely finish a sentence before breaking down in tears. Mary moved and placed her arm around the woman's shoulders, as Anna had done for her many times in the past few years.

"I'm sure it will all turn out right Anna. He is innocent, and that will come out."

"Thank you my lady. His lordship is being very kind. He got Mr Crawley to help, even though he's been in Manchester." Mary's heart stopped at the mention of Him. There was no escaping.

"Well Matthew is a very good lawyer, I'm sure he'll find something that helps," she fixed her smile.

"Sorry my lady, I didn't mean to... Is Sir Richard enjoying his first Downton Christmas?" she asked, trying to remedy the situation.

"Richard was unable to make it..." Mary trailed off. She was too tired to make excuses yet again. Anna knew that Mary wasn't telling all, but she wouldn't press for details. If Mary wanted to talk, she would when she was ready. Mary shook her head and smiled again, "well I'll leave you now Anna. I hope you are recovered soon. Goodnight."

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><p>At the sight of Matthew, and of trying to fight and hide her feelings all day, Mary finally cracked. In the privacy of her old bedroom, in the comfort of her old bed, the long repressed tears started to fall, hot and wet down her face. She clutched a pillow and cried silently into it, crying until she exhausted herself and drifted off to sleep.<p>

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><p>Christmas Eve was largely an uneventful day until they went to church for the traditional service and Mary found herself seated between Matthew and Sybil. Neither Mary nor Matthew moved, hardly dared to breathe. It was like something that they couldn't stop...a force of nature...they were just so aware of each other and what the other was doing. They sat down again after the hymn and found that their legs were almost touching. Mary felt like she was being burned by the heat coming from this almost-contact. The material of his trousers and her skirt had millimetres between them, and Matthew tried not to think about what would happen if he moved just the smallest fraction... Bad bad bad. This was so wrong. Mary felt much the same. She knew that Sybil was watching her carefully, and so she kept her face neutral, and shared Sybil's hymn book instead of Matthew's; anything to keep that little bit of space between them, trying to ignore the feelings that he created within her.<p>

They left the church, and Mary headed for Lavinia's grave. Matthew watched her for a moment, before stiffly making his way over, his shoes crunching in the snow, the cold making every ache more pronounced.

"Thank you," his voice was quiet, but she heard and looked up, confused.

"What for?"

"For paying your respects," he pointed his cane to the headstone, his heart aching a little.

"I liked Lavinia. I am very sorry that she died," her voice was defiant but just as quiet. "I'm sorry, I'll leave you. I do not want to intrude on your time..." their eyes met, and he noticed sadly that hers were glassy. The last time they had stood here, he had been...brutal. He knew that now, but he needed to make amends. He needed to at least try. He slid his hand into his coat pocket and grasped the little toy that was there.

"No, not at all. That is, you're not intruding. Mary I want to apologise," he hoped she could see and hear his sincerity. She arched an eyebrow.

"Apologise? Always apologising Matthew. There's nothing to apologise for. I'll see you this evening," her voice was as icy as the ground under their feet and she walked past him before he could speak again. She couldn't cope with him saying sorry. Not now. Her eyes were brimming with more tears, but she would not cry in public. He sighed and relaxed his grip on the toy. He had hurt her more than he had realised.

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><p>Dinner that evening was much the same as the night before, except with the addition of Dr Clarkson. Mary was sat at the opposite end of the table to Matthew. He didn't know if she had chosen it or had been put there, but he was enjoying the conversation that his mother and Edith were providing. Mary was pleasantly surprised by her conversation with Tom. He was passionate and argumentative, and sparred well with Mary. She began to understand a little of what her beloved little sister saw in him. There were a couple of moments when she caught Matthew's eye, and she could feel her mask slipping, feel herself wanting to tell him, but they passed quickly when her brother-in-law commanded her attention again. She noticed that Edith and James seemed to be getting along well, and was pleased with that. The war had brought her and Edith closer together, and whatever had happened in the past, Mary was genuinely pleased that she seemed to have found someone, or at least had the start of something, especially after the PatrickPeter incident. Edith caught her eye and they smiled warmly at each other, Edith's eyes sparkling in a way that Mary had never seen before.

Matthew saw the look between the sisters, and then looked between Edith and James. Ah, so that was Sybil's master-plan. He smiled at Mary as he caught her eye; she looked at him for a moment, and then gave a small smile back. Not the false, fixed smile that everyone else had been graced with, but the shy, genuine smile that he had seen only a handful of times. His heart skipped a beat, and he desperately tried to control his thoughts yet again, but then in a flash it was gone, and she blinked and looked away. Her heart was pounding. One glance, like so many others, and yet some instinct within her forced its way out and she had smiled at him. She couldn't help it. There was just something about him... She wasn't sure what else was said over the remainder of the meal, her thoughts distracting and occupying her attention. No-one seemed to notice though; the spirit of Christmas had well and truly taken over. Even Violet was enjoying herself. They all retired for coffee, where the festivities did not die down.

It had already been decided that Matthew and Isobel were to spend Christmas Eve at the house, and wake up on Christmas Day there. The thought made Matthew nervous: that he would spending the night under the same roof as Mary. Obviously he had before, when he was recovering, but it was different now. All so different.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Mary entered the library just as the clock chimed eleven. Everyone else had finally gone to bed, and she thought she would be able to get some peace. She was restless, and so decided to go and read in front of the fire for a while. She pulled her shawl tighter around herself and settled down on the sofa, her silk dress rustling as she moved to turn the page. Sometime later, the door opened and closed quietly, so quietly she didn't notice. He noticed though...she was in his line of sight as soon as he walked in. He was torn...leave her to her book, or advance further into the room and have the much-needed conversation. She was utterly engrossed in the book, and he realised he had never seen her like this: completely absorbed in the pages in front of her, her mouth slightly open, her eyes moving rapidly, drinking up the prose, and it conjured images in his mind of them both sat by a fire and reading. His hand reached into his pocket and patted what he carried. He took a step forward and her head shot up.

"Matthew!" She was surprised to see him. "What are you doing in here?" As soon as she said it, she thought it was a stupid thing to ask. He was a guest in the house and he liked to read, and as such, it was perfectly reasonable that he should visit the library. In the house that would eventually be his. In the middle of the night. After everyone else had gone to bed.

"I was unable to sleep. I thought I might read for a while," he took another step forwards, realising as he did that he didn't have a book.

"Well you know what they about great minds," she smiled, and all traces of the iciness from earlier were gone. Just the two of them. Alone. In an empty room. Alone. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, she was sure that he could hear it. He gripped his cane, "oh please, sit down Matthew. No need to stand on ceremony," she indicated to the seat opposite, which he gratefully took.

"Actually Mary, I'm glad I found you. I wanted to talk to you-" he was mesmerised by the firelight playing against her skin. She truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. His eyes were so vivid in the dim light. And he looked so handsome in his evening clothes, much more handsome than Richard. She should look away. He shouldn't be staring.

"I feel I must apologise Matthew-" she said at the same time. They smiled.

"No, please, continue," he gestured towards her to continue. The air between them was starting to thicken, as it always did.

"I...I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour towards you earlier today. I was very rude and I'm sorry."

"Thank you-" he said softly, but she interrupted him before he could finish. "You didn't come to my wedding." It wasn't an accusation, just a fact. He looked at her carefully, wondering whether to tell her the truth or not. His heart was racing just by being alone with her. Truth it was then.

"No...I received a letter a few days before advising me to stay away," he paused. "Sir Richard sent it," so far, no reaction. She was just watching him, drinking him in, just listening to his beautiful smooth voice. "Would you have wanted me there anyway?" To stop the wedding, he thought to himself.

"No. I suppose not. Especially not after our last conversation," don't cry, she told herself. Just hold it together. He'll leave soon. Just don't cry.

"Mary, please let me say sorry. I need to, because I am sorry. For all of it. For everything I said at Lavinia's funeral," he choked slightly on her name. He did miss her. He had loved her. But he missed and loved Mary more. "I shouldn't have said it. I was wrong and angry...I-"

She closed her book and sat up straight. She could see how hard it was for him to mention his former fiancé. "No. Stop. You weren't wrong. You were so very very right. Well not about you, but about me. You see Matthew I am the one who is cursed." She tried to smile but the tears quickly filled her brown eyes. Matthew sat forward on the seat, "what do you mean?"

"I am cursed Matthew. If it wasn't for me, you would never have lost your fiancé, would not have been injured in the war..." she stood up quickly and turned to the fire so that he wouldn't see the tears that had started to fall, her shawl slipped off and her book fell to the floor with a soft thud and both were instantly forgotten. It was time. It was bound to come out sooner or later, it may as well be on her terms. She wiped her eyes with gloveless hands and turned back to face him, to find him standing next to her.

"Mary, what on earth is the matter? You can tell me anything," he searched her eyes, wanting to reach for her, but resisting.

"If I was not cursed then I would not have found my husband to be unfaithful, I would be with child, and a man would not have died in my bed," her voice was hoarse as she choked out the last words, the revelation of speaking them out loud causing a fresh wave of pain that broke her heart all over again, and she clasped her hands to her face, not wanting him to see her fall apart. He stood watching her in disbelief. It was an awful lot of information to process and he didn't know where to start. The soft cry that she was trying to suppress, decided for him. He moved and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, her face buried against his shoulder; her own shoulders shaking silently as she released her pain. He rested his cheek against her hair and whispered and shushed her, trying to calm her, although he knew he was inexperienced at dealing with a damsel in distress. He was so warm, and it felt so nice to be in his arms. His hands were gently rubbing her back, which was both comforting and, infuriatingly, igniting something within her that a married woman should only feel for her husband. The feel of her in his arms, so familiar and yet...his head was starting to swim...so much to process...

After a while her sobs subsided and she pulled back to look at him, his face full of kindness. He gently led her to where he'd been sat, his back still aching. He turned to face her and handed her his handkerchief, which she used to dab against her eyes. "Mary, what on earth is going on?"

"I hardly know where to start," she said after a while, her breathing heavy after her outburst of emotion. She twisted the scrap of material in her fingers.

"How about the real reason that your husband isn't here?" he coaxed as gently as he could, trying not to demand, he had so many questions, but he had to let her talk, otherwise she would close off again, that much he knew. "He's not really got business to attend to has he?"

"Oh he has," her voice betrayed all of the emotional exhaustion that she felt. "It's just not the business that has made his fortune. He is likely to be with his mistress."

"Mary-" She cut him off. If he interrupted and asked questions she would not be able to tell him.

"You see, to Richard, I am nothing more than a trophy, a prize. To be picked up and put down as he pleases. To flirt and simper with his rivals to get them to give him a better deal. To be dressed up and paraded around like a doll, without a voice or an opinion, because why would I have an opinion that was not my husband's? And so he can do as he wishes, including take a mistress; and I just have to accept that and pretend that I don't know what he does." He had never heard her be so bitter, and it was heartbreaking. She was staring at the fire, the hurt and the rage filling her as she remembered finding out. Matthew licked his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"Do you know...who she is?" He tried to choose his words carefully, but they all felt clumsy to say. She nodded.

"Lady Madeline Winters. She is the wife of Sir Edward Winters. Sir Edward is Richard's biggest business rival, and he is richer and even more powerful," Matthew nodded. He had read things in the newspapers, probably Sir Edward's papers, he thought distractedly. "Lady Madeline is French, and married Sir Edward quite young. She and I are...acquaintances, I suppose."

"Why her? As revenge on Sir Edward?" He was thinking out loud but as he glanced at Mary, he realised it was not the best thing to be thinking aloud.

"I...I have no answer to that. You would have to ask Richard," she said flatly. "I see no problem with Sir Edward; he is intelligent and has a pleasant manner. He wants them to work together..." as she trailed off, Matthew could imagine why Sir Richard would have a problem with Sir Edward. He would not be told what to do, would not work for anyone, his own arrogance putting him at the centre of the universe.

"Does he know do you think?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"I doubt it. Or I rather think I would be a widow by now," she smiled wryly.

"How long...?" She closed her eyes briefly, wanting to give him all the answers. He knew he was bombarding her now, but had said that if Richard wasn't good to her, he would have Matthew to answer to.

"Since before we were engaged. I asked his valet," answering his unspoken question. The hurt was written all over her face. They stayed in silence, both staring at the handkerchief balled up in her clenched fists. The clocked ticked by, and made them both jump as it chimed quarter to twelve. Had they really only been talking for about half an hour?

"You mentioned...being with child?" he said after what seemed like an age, his voice low, and he tried to keep it neutral.

"Ah yes, that," she said so indifferently that it pained him. "You see, I never really thought of myself as maternal. I just assumed that I would one day have children and that would be that, it was all that was expected of me once I was married. And then last month, I had some unexpected news from the doctor after I had been feeling unwell for several days. Unexpected but not unwelcome. For the first time in my life Matthew, I felt like I suddenly had a real purpose. I was not just to be a bauble," her voice was catching, tears gathering again. He hated the way she was referring to herself, but part of him realised that for outside appearances, that's all she was. She was a woman; nothing else was expected of her. He reached out for her hand. She blinked and shook her head, a single tear falling down her cheek. "But it was not meant to be. The day after I saw the doctor, I went to go and tell Richard, but I got to his office and it was empty. No-one around at all, and then as I got closer I heard... And I opened the door, and I saw..." she pressed her hands to her face again, trying to keep her tears in as she remembered what she had heard and seen, keeping them there until she had calmed slightly. Matthew reached for her again, pulling her into his arms. She pulled away, pushing her palms against his chest, keeping him at arm's length. She wasn't finished. She needed to get it out, all of it out. "Sybil was visiting and I went to my room to lie down because I was in no mood for company, and something didn't feel right, hadn't felt right since I left the office, and it was a pain I've never felt before," she paused for breath, one hand unconsciously moving to her stomach. "Thompson called for Sybil, who called for the doctor, and just like that, there was no longer a child." Her hands were fidgeting now, and she pulled the handkerchief so tightly it almost tore.

"Oh Mary, I'm sorry," and he truly was. He remembered how Cora had been after she had miscarried all those years ago. Mary smiled weakly at him, her face tear-stained and her voice shaking slightly, "that's not everything." Matthew felt sick; he didn't know what could possibly be worse than having an unfaithful husband and losing a child. "Richard came home. He didn't know I'd been to his office, he didn't know that I knew. And the doctor told him, and his reaction was that I was not a proper wife." Matthew gasped in horror, how could a man be so cruel to his wife at a time like that?

"But surely you could...fall pregnant again?" He did not want to conjure up the images of Sir Richard touching beautiful lovely Mary in such an intimate way but he now knew that to be a mother was something that she wanted. Something that would make her happy. She was shaking her head. "Oh Matthew, still not all. The doctor said that it was very unlikely that I would ever be able to have children," those words had hurt her more than anything that Richard had said; hurt her more than what Matthew had said. Those words had cut through her and made her want to scream until there was no air left in her lungs. But instead she had just sat propped up in the bed, with Sybil next to her squeezing her hand, tears falling silently, and she had just nodded and accepted his words while Richard had paced the room cursing. "Richard has not been near me since then. The really cruel twist of irony is that, even if I had accepted you five years ago, it would have been futile, as I would not have been able to produce another heir anyway," she covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing with all her heart that it wasn't true.

Matthew suddenly stood up and turned, tears filling his own eyes, feeling her pain as well as his own. All of the money in the world could not replace what she had lost. "Do you love him?" he was leaning against the fireplace, gripping the edge, his knuckles white from the tension. "No," it was barely audible. The crackling of the dying fire was louder. "My heart belongs to one person Matthew, and he is not it." He felt something behind him. She had moved to him, her left hand resting ever so slightly over his, and he noticed for the first time that she was not wearing her wedding ring. He suddenly found it much harder to breathe as she softly ran her fingers over his knuckles. He moved his hand and covered her fingers, squeezing gently. She rested her forehead and her right hand against his back and closed her eyes at the sensation of his skin against hers, of the electric current that was passing between them at every point of contact. They stood like that for several minutes, not daring to move, in case it was a dream and they would wake at any moment.

"The final thing you mentioned..." he turned to face her, taking both of her hands in his, eyes locked together. She nodded and took a deep breath. It was finally time to tell him.

"Kemal Pamuk died in my bed," as she spoke those 6 words, her heart stopped. It was out there. The one thing she had always wanted to keep from him, but there was no need and no point to keeping it secret any more. She was married, and was a failure as a woman. She watched him, waiting for him to recognise the name, waiting for disgust and horror to fill his kind face. He stared at her, taking in every single line and curve of her face. He was fairly certain he'd stopped breathing.

"The Turkish gentleman?" he made barely any sound. She nodded, her heart aching as she readied herself for this final and most devastating rejection. A part of her brain registered that he still held her hands. "Wh...How?" It wasn't what he wanted to ask but it was the most coherent thing he could manage.

"He came to my room. I didn't invite him, but I should have been more firm in telling him to leave. But I wasn't. I was stupid and weak, and he died in my bed, and it's a mistake I pay for every single day." Her face was so open, so honest. It was so rare...but she had...with a man... He knew his thoughts were disjointed.

"Does Sir Richard know?" she nodded once, and he dropped her hands. Everything she had been expecting to see bore into her from his icy blue eyes. She knew it. Knew he would be disgusted with her, knew that he would not be able to look at her in the same way again. "Who helped you to carry him? I'm assuming you were unable to move him by yourself?" he sounded so detached. She could hardly blame him.

"Anna and Mama helped me."

"I see."

"I wanted to tell you so many times... But I could never find the right words, and I thought...I didn't want you to look at me as you are now," his expression hadn't changed since she had told him. "I suppose it's a good thing I'm married now. No chance of my reputation being damaged, not anymore..." she trailed off, as if speaking the last bit to herself alone. "So you see Matthew, you have had a lucky escape from a cursed harlot," she fixed her fake smile to her face, trying her best not to show how much she was hurting. His face softened.

"No, Mary, don't talk like that..." he didn't know what else to say. His head hurt, he still had so many questions, still had so much to say to her. She didn't know...it seemed like she thought he hated her. The air was so thick around them, it was stifling. She couldn't stay there. Her eyes were tired, and she ached everywhere, but she also felt strangely relieved that she no longer had any secrets from him. It was a bittersweet relief though. They just stood staring at each other, not knowing what else there was to do or say, certainly nothing that could remedy the current situation. Behind them, the clocked chimed, and decided for Mary. It was already past midnight. "Merry Christmas Matthew," she said softly, and she turned and left the room, leaving him standing there watching after her.

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><p><em>So this chapter has become a mini-epic by itself, which wasn't my intention, but there was nowhere to stop it after I got Mary opening up because I just kept writing and writing...and this is the end result. The next one (hopefully) won't be as long.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you again lovely people who keep 'alerting' this and reviewing it. It's making me very happy to know that people are enjoying it! Impressively (I think), most of this chapter and the next chapter were written on scrap paper and till roll at work earlier today, such was my eagerness to get my ideas down before I forgot them! Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Mary woke after the best night's sleep she had had in a long time. Despite the constant ache in her chest over her lost child and her many confusing feelings about Matthew; she felt relieved, lighter, like a weight had been lifted, which she supposed it had. Matthew knew everything now and there was no way to take any of it back. They would probably never manage to recover from this one, she thought to herself as she climbed out of bed and headed to the window, looking out onto the grounds. It didn't matter though. Anna had been right: you do regret being honest far less than you regret lying. As she pulled open the curtains, the sunlight caught against something on her dresser. Her ring. Her heart sank. She hated the brash, ostentatious gaudiness of it. Richard's choice, naturally. She had no excuse not to wear it though; not without them asking questions. Normally she could just about bear it, but after last night... It may as well have been made from lead for how heavy it felt on her finger. She sighed and rang the bell for Thompson. She had decided not to let it spoil the day; it was Christmas after all.

Matthew woke up after a restless night's sleep. Since returning from the war he had not managed to sleep well once. Last night had been particularly bad...his dreams had been plagued by images of Mary and Richard together, and then of Lavinia as a ghost telling him to be happy, and then of Mary screaming in pain and him not being able to help her. He shook his head as he sat up slowly. The last one was not so much a dream as an accurate portrayal of how things were. She was hurting a great deal, and he knew that last night had only scratched the surface of her feelings. He rubbed his face and ran his hand through his hair. He felt like he was being watched. He looked around, taking in the unfamiliar bedroom, and saw the pair of black eyes watching him. Judging him as well, he thought before dismissing the notion. He had gone into the library, knowing she was there, with every intention of giving it back, but then events had dictated otherwise. He wanted to throw it far away, and wished it was heavier, which would make it far more satisfying to throw, but it was just a soft toy and as such it was unlikely that it would actually go further than a couple of feet. He scowled at it, realising that his behaviour was bordering on childish. He was angry, and he was upset, but it was not directed at the toy or Mary. He had realised last night that he was still so desperately in love with her that he ached from it. He had tried; really he had, but the connection between them was so strong. It was like she was an actual part of him. Everything he felt whenever she was near made him forget any resolve he had. He was surprised at how easily he could admit it to himself, especially after so many months of denial. As soon as he knew she was in a miserable marriage, knew that the one thing she wanted was never to be, he had felt all of the love he had ever held for her pulsing through him. When she had told him about her indiscretion, yes he had been shocked, but her painful admittance of it had cemented his feelings for her. Today was to be another day of apologising. He sighed, and started to undress himself.

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><p>He stood in the doorway to the dining room, slightly confused because everyone was in a different place than they were dinner, and yet he still found himself next to Mary. No-one seemed to notice anything between them, like the fact that they had had the most honest and heartbreaking of conversations in the whole time of knowing each other. Sybil was glancing at Mary occasionally, eyes filled with the same concern as the past two days. At least he understood that concern now. He focussed on the food in front of him and eventually got caught up with the smiles and jokes of the morning. He had never experienced a family breakfast at Downton before, and he supposed it was only like this because it was Christmas Day. Everyone who entered the room got a chorus of "Merry Christmas", including the servants. Spirits were high, even though it was still quite early.<p>

Mary was doing all she could to avoid looking at Matthew. She did not want to see again what she had seen in his face last night. It was proving difficult though when he was sat right next to her. Luckily, her mother was asking her about Hacksby, and she could explain that there was no point opening up the house for a few days, just for her. Her mother nodded in agreement, pleased that Mary had her own estate to think of now. She could tell Matthew was listening, even though it wasn't a terribly exciting topic. Sybil kept catching her eye, her worried feelings for her oldest sister written all over her face, but Mary just smiled. They could talk later.

After the merriness of breakfast, everyone in the house headed to the church for the morning service. The new chauffeur, who Tom had already engaged in conversation with about how best to look after the car, was to take Isobel, Violet and Cora. Everyone else was to walk. The servants led the way. Mary was pleased to note that Anna seemed to have recovered from her cold, and smiled at her warmly. Tom and Sybil walked arm in arm, talking with Robert, Edith and James followed, also talking but spending a great deal more time sharing shy, embarrassed smiles with the other. This left Mary and Matthew at the rear. They both groaned inwardly. It wasn't intentional; they had just been the last ones to leave the house. They fell into step, Mary slowing her pace to match Matthew's, but they were still avoiding looking at each other. The awkwardness between them creating a gulf of miles, rather than just the inches there actually were. The only sounds that filled the air were the distant chatter and laughter of everyone else, and the fresh snow crunching underfoot. Mary kept opening her mouth to say something, and then closing it as she realised she still didn't know what to say. Matthew was adopting a similar approach.

"I hope you slept well," Mary said suddenly, inwardly berating herself for such an inane comment.

"I...as well as I could thank you," he replied stiffly. They were still not looking at each other, the snow in front of them seemingly more interesting. "Are you looking forward to the festivities?"

"Yes, thank you. Mrs Patmore always makes an excellent feast." Awkward pause. "It does not feel too cold today despite the snow," she rolled her eyes at herself. This was ridiculous. He knew things about her that not even her own parents knew, and yet the best conversation that she could come up with, was about the weather.

"No, I suppose not," it was like pulling teeth. Surely it had never ever been this awkward. How had they ever managed to talk before? Even last night... He wanted to tell her every single thought that was racing through his mind but with the church just coming into view and everyone from the Downton estate and the village heading in, it was hardly appropriate.

Mary managed to seat herself on the end next to her grandmother. He was right behind her. She could feel his gaze burning into the back of her head. Do not turn round. Just ignore it, she told herself. He was glad that she had pushed slightly ahead and gone to sit with Violet. However, the only seat left was behind her. Her hat covered her chocolate locks. Her elegant neck was covered by her high-collared coat. All sorts of improper thoughts sprang to mind as they stood for the first hymn. He had somehow unlocked every feeling he had ever had for Mary, and now they were popping into his brain in rapid succession. He gripped the hymn book hard, his gloves hiding the tension in his hands.

On the walk back, Matthew found himself between Tom and James, who was asking them both about Edith, who was ahead with her sisters. Matthew and Tom shared a look; it was suddenly very clear where his intentions were headed. Linked between her two sisters, Edith was similarly pressing Sybil for more information. Robert was just ahead, and he smiled at the sound of his daughters talking and giggling together, relieved also that Mary seemed in better spirits than she had so far this week.

Carson greeted them as they entered, and they all headed in for some tea. Matthew had forgotten just how much time was spent drinking tea at the house. It was so different to the hustle and bustle of Manchester, where there was not the time to just simply sit. The thought amused him and he smiled as he took a sip, accidentally catching Mary's eye as he did so. She had been looking round, just observing everyone, when she saw Matthew smile...and their faces both dropped back into the masks that they had held all morning. The time passed, and suddenly Carson was stood there telling them that it was time to change for lunch.

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><p>Everyone headed straight to the dining room as soon as they were ready in their evening finery for the feast. Mary had opted for a deep red silk dress. She looked like a Greek goddess, Matthew thought. She was married woman. She should not look like that. He felt the heat rise up his neck slightly as his thoughts became altogether more inappropriate. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dismiss them.<p>

"Matthew, are you alright?" his mother's voice cutting through his thoughts.

"Yes. Just a bit of pain...the cold, you know..." he trailed off, ignoring the curious looks from the family as he sat down.

The food was already on the table as they entered. There was duck, goose, pheasant, ham, all sorts of vegetables, tarts, cakes, pudding...it just seemed to go on and on. Carson, the footman and the maids all stood beaming at the side of the room, ready to serve. There were crackers that everyone pulled, providing them all with colourful paper crowns that everyone put on, even Violet. Matthew was sure he'd never seen Robert and Cora so at ease. He found himself relaxing, and everything that had been playing on his mind since the night before was put away to be thought of later. Mary had forgotten how much she enjoyed Christmas lunch with her sisters, even when they were younger, and Edith and Mary had despised each other, that was all put to one side on Christmas Day, and the three of them chatted and giggled and it was as if they weren't bickering with one another for the rest of the year. They both looked so happy, it made Mary want to cry. She doubted she would ever stop feeling so protective towards them.

Robert sat back for a moment, and carefully observed everyone around the table. Cora and Isobel were listening to his mother tell the story of how she had met his father, and were laughing with her. Tom, James and Matthew were involved in a lively debate about cars and sport. His daughters were whispering to each other and giggling. His three beautiful little girls...his heart contracted at the thought, for they weren't little girls anymore. Two of them were married and had left Downton. But this was how it should be. How it should always be. The servants broke his train of thought as they cleared around the party, barely finishing the last mouthfuls of the brandy pudding before it was taken away. He took a sip of his wine, and noticed that Sybil was nodding to Tom.

"Sorry to interrupt but we thought that now would be a good time to make an announcement," they stood and Tom wrapped his arm around Sybil's waist. Violet frowned at that, but for once, she declined to comment. "Well the thing is, I'm...that is to say, we, are expecting a baby. In March," Sybil beamed, Tom's smile matched hers. The whole room was stunned for a second, and then everyone broke out into excited chatter, and they all rushed out of their seats to congratulate them. Mary reached to hug her sister, her heart heavy and tears prickling in her eyes. "I'm sorry," Sybil whispered.

"Darling, don't be. It's wonderful news. Truly," she kissed her on the cheek, and then Tom, and then moved out of the way so that someone else could get to them.

"Are you alright?" She hadn't realised that she was now stood next to Matthew. His voice was quiet in her ear. She turned to face him, "of course. Don't worry about me Matthew. It's wonderful. I'm so happy for them," she smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew that it probably wouldn't help.

"Well, after that, I think it's time for the presents! Shall we?" called Robert to the room, and he led them into the great hall. There was a giant tree in one corner, and it was surrounded by a pile of presents. Matthew realised he hadn't actually paid much attention to the decorations in here. There were sprigs of holly and ivy everywhere, candles on the tree, displays of pine cones and fir leaves. Everyone handed out their own presents, and waited with bated breath as they were unwrapped and cooed over. There were gifts of hats, watches, gloves, shawls and scarves, jewellery, dresses, books, cufflinks, and trinkets. Mary was watching Matthew carefully as he was examining the pocket watch he had received from Cora and Robert. At that moment, he seemed happy. She had not seen him like that since before Lavinia died, and they had been preparing for the wedding, in this very room. She took a deep breath and walked over to the tree, where he was still stood with her parents, and she clutched the gift she carried a little tighter than necessary. This was the last one to hand out. She had spent a lot of time thinking about this present, and whether to give it to him or not, for it had originally been intended as a wedding present for him. And Lavinia. She swallowed nervously.

"I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten you," she said to Matthew as she handed him a beautifully wrapped book-shaped object. He slowly pulled the paper off; aware that everyone's eyes were suddenly on the two of them. He turned it over and read the cover. It was an illustrated copy of the complete works of Shakespeare. This edition was quite rare. He stared at it open-mouthed. Shakespeare was someone they had discussed many times during his recovery, but the works were not something that Matthew actually owned. He looked at Mary. She looked anxious, as if the present was some way to apologise or atone for the previous night.

"Mary...this is wonderful. Thank you." And he meant it. She nodded, and gave him a small smile, hoping that she had managed to repair a little of the damage that had been done.

"A telephone call for Lady Mary," Carson said, appearing as if from nowhere.

"Thank you Carson," she followed the butler. Matthew watched after her. It was probably her husband. He frowned; annoyed at reminding himself that she had a husband, and then remembering he had no right to be annoyed at her being married. Through the glass door he could see her nodding and answering the person at the other end. Suddenly the colour drained from her face. He took a step forward, but she was saying something else. She put down the telephone, clasped a hand over her mouth and went out of the front door. He followed, his cane quite forgotten next to the chair he had been sat in. Sybil had been watching her as well, and they both reached her as she was bent over being sick just outside the door, one gloved hand clutching at the doorframe. Sybil was behind her in an instant, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear. She straightened, turned and rested her head against the cold stone of the house. Matthew stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do while Sybil had everything under control.

"Mary?" the call came from Robert, who had also followed them outside. She wiped her face with the handkerchief that Sybil passed her, that Matthew had offered, and turned to face them. "What on earth...?"

She looked at each of them, trying to calm her breathing, trying to ignore the feeling of nausea that still washed over her, and said coolly "Richard is to be a father."

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><p><em>Just a quick note: I have no idea what Christmas would have been like at that time. No idea of presentsfood/how much churching occurred/whether they would have been so dressed up etc, but I've already mentioned that is just wishful thinking, so just go with it, even if the historical inaccuracies are slapping you in the face with their obviousness!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Apologies for uploading chapter 5 twice and getting you excited if you set up an alert for this story, but as I was re-reading it when writing this chapter, I noticed a couple of minor errors and they were really bugging me, and that was the only way I could fix them. So sorry for that, but please enjoy this lovely shiny new chapter, and thank you again to everyone who has reviewed/alerted._

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

She directed her gaze at Matthew, and the full implication of her words hit him like a heavy rock, and he closed his eyes and shook his head. Confusion flashed across both Sybil and Robert's faces. Then Robert realised...thought he'd realised.

"Mary, are you also-" his face suddenly lit up.

"No," she cut him off sharply. "No, it's not me. It's...his mistress." The pained look on Mary's face said more than she was letting on.

"Surely that wasn't Carlisle on the telephone?" Matthew's voice was quiet. She shook her head, releasing some of the waiting tears.

"No, it was her husband... Excuse me," the bile rising in her throat as she spoke. She turned away from them and leaned against the doorframe, pressing the handkerchief to her face, "I just need a minute. Please." She had never felt so crushed in her entire life. The one thing she should be able to give her husband and she couldn't, and now another woman was. She wanted to scream, to throw things, break things. Break him. She hated him. Hated what he had done. She wanted to hurt him. Her thoughts were going too fast for her make much sense of them. Everything ached from crying, and her chest hurt from where her breath had caught as she tried to calm down. Suddenly there was a warmth round her back and a pair of hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She turned to find that Matthew was stood a bit closer to her than before and also that he was without his jacket. Her father and Sybil had left them. His brow was furrowed in concern. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't going to say it.

"We should get back inside or you'll catch your death," he sounded distracted.

"Isn't that what I deserve?" fresh tears filled her dark eyes.

"No. No it's not. Don't ever say that again Mary. Not ever," he sounded so sincere that she did momentarily doubt her words. They looked deeply into each other's eyes. Whatever she had seen in them last night was not there now, having been replaced by something else, something she couldn't quite place... The air around them was still, tension mounting again. She tilted her head up towards his...

He sensed her intention and pulled himself back, placing his hands back on her shoulders, keeping her away. "No," he whispered. It was like she had been hit. He saw her flinch and stepped closer. "Not because... You've had some terrible news" he reached down for her hands but she folded her arms, preventing him, "and you're in shock. And despite what he has done, you are still married. Do not sink yourself to his level." She nodded, knowing deep down that he was right. This made her realise that they were stood in the snow, neither of them dressed for being outside. Matthew's jacket felt very heavy all of a sudden and she shrugged it off, handing it back to him without breaking from his gaze.

"Why, Matthew Crawley, I do believe we will freeze out here," she attempted a smile but her heart was not in it. He smiled sadly back at her, not knowing what else to do but accept the coat and follow her back inside. If any of the others had noticed their absence, they did not mention it. Matthew had put his jacket back on, and nodded once at Robert who watched them come back in. Mary headed straight up the stairs, presumably to refresh herself he thought.

The servants had all come up from downstairs by now, wine was being drunk, and Tom and Sybil were fiddling with the gramophone in the corner. After a short while and a bit of deep breathing, Mary left her bedroom and was greeted by the sounds of laughter and music. She leaned over the balcony and could see her grandmother leading Thomas in a waltz. The laughter was coming from her sisters and the younger servants. She smiled to herself and headed down the stairs, where Robert was waiting at the bottom for her. They both smiled as her mother led Carson into the middle of the room.

"Can I have a moment Mary?"

"Of course," she followed him into the library, where Matthew was already waiting for them.

"I haven't said anything," he said, noting the look of panic that had crossed her face, "but your father wanted me here." She nodded, as Robert moved to stand closer to Matthew.

"Mary, you mentioned Sir Richard and a mistress...is it true?"

"Yes. I found out last month. It has been...he has been having an affair with her since before we were engaged. Her husband is Richard's main business competitor, but before you ask, I do not know whether the affair is an act of revenge, or of love... Richard does not know that I know. Well I suppose he might do now," she frowned.

"What did Sir Edward say?" Matthew was incredibly curious.

"Who is Sir Edward?" Robert was confused and looking between them.

"Sir Edward Winters. He is in the newspaper business, but his father also left him a substantial amount of property all over the country and in America. Lady Madeline is his wife, and Richard's mistress," Matthew watched her closely. She sounded so flat, so emotionless. Bit by bit over the past few days, she had brought down her mask, but now it was back, and Matthew realised that this was how she coped. If everyone could see, then she would fall apart. She was keeping her heartbreak hidden, and he wondered how often she had done that in that past. She did not want to be having this conversation with her father, but it was overdue. She especially did not want to tell him about her apparent failure as a woman, as a wife, but he was a kind man, and he loved her. That much she knew. "He said that his wife is to expect a child within the next month and that he was not likely to be the father because at the time of conception..." her cheeks flushed at the mention of such things in front of her father, "he was in Europe. And she was not." Both men dropped their gaze, heads shaking slightly. Their poor Mary. Matthew just wanted to hold her.

"What is Sir Edward going to do?" Robert was now pacing around.

"I don't think even he knows that yet. I presume he just wanted me to know," she shrugged and started twisting the handkerchief she still held.

"You can't stay married to that man. I won't allow it," Robert's voice was suddenly angry. "Matthew is there a way she could get out of this marriage?" he stopped pacing and turned to Matthew, who was still watching Mary, and his head snapped up. He thought carefully for a moment before speaking.

"There might be... I...I would have to do some research, but it should be possible."

"I can't divorce him," Mary spoke so quietly that at first they thought they had misheard her. "I can't...it would ruin everything. He would destroy everything."

"What do you mean?" they both stared at her.

"I...he blackmailed me into marrying him." She avoided their gaze, but heard their sharp intakes of breath.

"What?" Robert's voice was thunderous. She sighed. It was time to tell her father.

"There is something about me that Richard knew about, and he prevented it from being published in the papers. And he told me that if I ever crossed him, he would destroy me. Not just me. All of us. The whole family. Even you Matthew," she looked at him sadly as the facts clicked into place and recognition flashed across his face.

"Pamuk?" he whispered, feeling unable to make any real sound. She nodded. He swallowed; his face pale, a deep frown set across his brow.

"The Turkish chap? What about him?"

"He died in my bed papa. Somehow the late Mrs Bates found out, and was blackmailing Bates. She then went to Richard to sell the story, and he got her to sign a contract for her silence under the guise of publishing it himself. It was the day before the engagement was announced in the paper," she got it all out quickly, before they could interrupt, before they could question. The horror on Matthew's face was slightly less than it been the night before. But Robert...she couldn't bear to look at her beloved father. She closed her eyes, and tried to drown out the rowdy noises that were coming from the hall. How she wished she was out there with everyone else, and not rooted to the spot and suffocating in awkward silence. She felt hands on her shoulders; someone was stood in front of her. She opened her eyes, and Robert filled her vision.

"My darling girl, why on earth didn't you tell me?" tears were filling her eyes again; she didn't think she had ever cried as much as she had in the past week.

"I thought you would hate me. That you would disown me," as she said it, she caught Matthew's eye over her father's shoulder, directing it just as much at him.

"Never. You are my daughter and I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy. If anything, I am only sad that you felt you could not tell me sooner." Before she could speak he embraced her, and she sank against him, as she had done as a child. He was still her papa, and she was still his first child. Before anything else could be said, Sybil burst in and called "come on, you're missing all the dancing! Granny won't stop!" and ran out again.

"I think I had best go and make sure Mama is giving everyone a chance," he smiled at Mary. "We will discuss this more tomorrow," she nodded as he followed after her sister, closing the door behind him.

"You have to divorce him Mary, I know you said he will ruin everything, but what is there to ruin? The reputation of your sisters? One is already married, and the other...well I think an engagement is imminent. Everyone who knows your parents knows what sort of people they are, how much good they do, and have done in the past. And I...I have nothing to ruin. The society of London is of very little importance in Manchester," he had spoken louder than he had intended, and had moved closer to her. His hands were clenched into fists as his side. She was just staring at him with her mouth open, as if she had been about to speak before he unleashed his tirade. "Would you have married him if you had known about the mistress?" his voice was softer now.

"Of course not," she said, finding her voice. "But it is too late to wonder what may have happened if different decisions had been made Matthew," she drew herself up to her full height. "I am well aware that if I had told you about Pamuk a long time ago then things would be very different. That if it had not happened at all, we would be married," he met her eyes in surprise. She hadn't intended to say that.

"Was that why you didn't accept me?" She could lie. She could pretend. But there was no point. He knew everything else; one more piece of information couldn't do any more damage than had already been done.

"Yes. But if you had known, what's to say you would not have withdrawn the proposal anyway?"

"I would..." he didn't know how to finish. He was so different from the man he had been five years ago. He forgave her now, but would he have forgiven her then? Perhaps not, but the war had changed him, had changed everything. "I thought it was because you didn't love me," he ran his hand through his hair and turned away from her.

"You must know Matthew, that not telling you, it was done out of love. Whatever you think of me...you can never accuse me of not loving you," she stared at his back and breathed out. It was like she had been holding her breath for a very long time. There was nothing else to say. He truly did know everything. He was glad she couldn't see his face. She had never admitted to loving him before now. Violet had told him that she did but at the time he had feebly defended his engagement to Lavinia. It was decided. He turned back to face her.

"Do you mean that? That you love me?" she nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "Do I need to tell you my feelings Mary?" He was smiling.

"What about the...incident?" she asked, ignoring his question. She was still anxious.

"What about it? It is in the past. If you need my forgiveness, you have it. God knows you have suffered enough, and I do not intend to make you suffer further." Unlike Richard, he thought angrily to himself. That was all she needed from him: his forgiveness, his acceptance of what she had done. He reached a hand up to her face, and gently rested it against her cheek. They almost jumped at the contact. It was like lightning passing through them. "If I could get you out of your marriage, would you have me instead?" she bent her head and he stepped closer. She looked up, her face sad.

"I can't...there would be no children..."

"On any terms Mary," he said softly, repeating her own words back to her, as he thought back to when he'd been injured and Mary had nursed him. His thumb rubbed gently at her cheek and she brought up her own hand to cover his. Her other hand reached for his. "I love you so very much Mary, and I was a fool to try and pretend otherwise," she smiled at that, a smile that reached her eyes and made them sparkle. Her cheeks were pink from his attentive gaze. "So, if I can, would you have me?" she said something but he didn't hear, and leaned closer still. She spoke again.

"I would hardly call that a proper proposal Matthew Crawley," she raised her eyebrows but was still smiling.

"I am terribly sorry, but I do believe you may be right. Lady Mary Crawley," she nearly burst at him not using her married name. "If I can get you out of that loveless marriage and away from that horrible man, would you do me the very great honour, and pleasure, of becoming my wife?" Time stopped. Everything stopped. There was nothing else, just the two of them. As it should be.

"Yes. Yes I will," she beamed at him as she finally gave him the answer he felt like he had waited his whole life for. They moved towards each other, not even aware of it, more like instinct than a conscious action. Both still smiling as their lips met and their fingers laced together. Kissing Mary was like nothing else on earth. It was sublime. Matthew tried to think beyond that, but all he could sense was her. Mary had never felt happier, she felt like she was soaring. It just felt so right.

Without warning he pulled away from her. "I have something for you. Call it your Christmas present if you like," he reached into his pocket. She froze. Surely he didn't have a ring? In his hand he held...

A soft, slightly worn, toy dog.

"I think it's time that you had this back. And until...things are resolved...perhaps you could accept this as my promise to you," he smiled as he pressed it into her hand and closed her fingers around it.

* * *

><p><em>The great debate of whether to cliff-hanger or not. Went for not in the end, just to keep you all going until I have written something else.<br>Maybe chapter 7 will just be Violet turning Downton into some sort of Boogie Wonderland, with Thomas leading a rendition of YMCA, that has Branson, Matthew and Carson as backing dancers, and then Robert taking over with a bit of Saturday Night Fever and the Crawley sisters going a bit Super Trouper on everyone... _

_Then again, maybe not._


	7. Chapter 7

_Apologies for the slight delay with this chapter, but I was getting a bit too carried away when I was writing and my sleep suffered! Also, I've been writing the ending and I wanted to get that down before my train of thought went elsewhere.  
>Thank you for reviews and alerts! Enjoy!<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"I think we should go and rejoin the party. They'll be starting to wonder," she whispered. "You might have to hold onto this though. I haven't got any pockets in my dress," she smiled, then leaned up and kissed him lightly on the mouth, released her hands from his and started walking backwards to the door. He looked down and found he was holding the toy. How had she done that?

Mary stood watching the rather incredible, but surreal, scene before her. Her father was leading Mrs Hughes around the floor, her grandmother had now commandeered Tom into a dance, and Mrs Patmore and Mr Molesley were awkwardly making their way around the floor, him having come up from Crawley house after lunch. Everyone was laughing, everyone was happy. "May I have this dance?" his voice was low in her ear. She nodded, shivering slightly at his breath on her neck. He took her hand, and rested his other on her back, her other on his shoulder. She tried not to think about the last time they had danced. When she thought it would truly be the last time. He led her so elegantly. He did not need his cane for this, even in the cold. They didn't speak, words were superfluous. The music slowed. They were the only two people there; everyone else had sort of faded away. If anyone thought the way that he gazed at her, causing her to flush a deep pink, was inappropriate, they didn't say so. He desperately wanted to pull her closer, to move his arm to her waist, to rest his cheek against hers... The music came to an end, and he reluctantly let her be twirled away by her father, while Violet ordered Daisy to partner him. She was worse than the generals he had served with in France.

One by one, people started to feel the day catch up with them, and the servants left the party to return to their evening duties. Everyone else moved into the drawing room, and sat down with a glass of brandy, except for Sybil who was drinking tea, and had been all week, which made her wonder why her news had not been more obvious to her family. Then, like the servants, tiredness crept up on them. Cora was the first to go, followed in quick succession by Sybil and Tom, and Violet. Robert had kindly offered for Matthew and Isobel to stay for another night, which they had graciously accepted. Isobel knew that something had gone on between Matthew and Mary, but she didn't know what. She did know that after they came out of the library, their eyes sought each other's and they were smiling almost constantly. She had watched them together over the past few days, and she was lost. They blew so hot and cold with each other. How they kept up with each other was a mystery. But then perhaps that was their problem, she mused. She had not seen her son look so content in months, and so she indulged in some wishful thinking. She decided to go to bed and leave them to talk a bit more. Robert left soon after, leaving just Matthew, Mary, Edith and James.

Mary was looking between her sister and the handsome doctor. There was definitely something there because Edith had not lost any of the pink from her cheeks all day. The clock chimed but they paid no attention to the time. They just carried on talking, and drinking. Eventually, Edith caught Mary's eye and looked at her meaningfully. Ah.

"Well, it is quite late. I think I shall retire," she said awkwardly, not really knowing what else she could say that would please her sister. She looked at Matthew and stood up, hoping he would understand, but he just looked between them, oblivious.

"Good night Mary," he took another sip of his drink.

"Are you sure you are not feeling tired Matthew? Not a little exhausted after the day's events? Not wanting to go to bed at all?" she nodded towards Edith and raised her eyebrows. He looked at Edith, who had a pleading look on her face, and realised what he had been failing to notice. He stood unsteadily. It was probably because his cane was around somewhere but he didn't know where, and it was definitely not a result of the wine. Or the brandy, he thought to himself.

"Oh, yes, now you mention it Mary, I am a bit tired. Would you be so kind as to help me back to my room? I seem to have misplaced my stick..." he beamed at Edith and James, and let Mary lead him out of the room to the sounds of their goodnights and sleep wells.

Mary linked her arm through his as they slowly made their way up the stairs. The thought occurred to her that she didn't actually know which room Matthew was staying in. She hoped it wasn't the one that Richard used when he stayed, which incidentally, was the same room that Pamuk had stayed in. They reached the door and she was relieved to note that it was one of the other guest bedrooms. He leaned heavily against the door, fatigue washing over him. It had been a long and emotional day, and his back really was aching. Mary stood before him, ready to leave. She was peeling off her gloves, and he was relieved to notice that for the second night in a row, she was not wearing her wedding ring. "Matthew Crawley, you still have something of mine I believe," her smile was so playful and her deep, dark eyes were so full of love, he wondered how he had ever missed it. Maybe he had not seen it because he had not wanted to see it, to believe that it was real. He returned her smile, and pulled the toy out of his pocket, handing it back to her for the second time that day. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she kept her voice quiet, sensing that they weren't completely alone.

"Well it was yours anyway..."

"Not for that, well not just for that. For today. I have felt happier today than I have in a long time," she smiled at him again. "Goodnight Matthew, Merry Christmas," and she left him.

"Goodnight Mary." Part of him wanted to follow her but he knew that tonight was not the night for that. He also knew that it was not going to be easy to get her a divorce. Sir Richard was likely to use every dirty trick at his disposal, and many more besides, to keep her as his wife. Matthew went into the bedroom, and moments later Molesley appeared to help him get ready for bed. He left with a nod, and left Matthew alone to think about what he was going to do.

Mary sat on her bed for a moment, half-hoping that Matthew would come after her. The door handle clicked and she froze, and then relaxed when Anna appeared. She knew she had a perfectly good ladies maid. She also knew that she had been hired by Richard, and was likely to be reporting back to him. In London and at Hacksby, it was fine, but here...with Matthew. Even after everything Richard had done, she was still afraid of his reaction to her cousin, and would not want to add fuel to that particular fire. He would make this divorce as difficult as possible. He would not want to lose his most treasured possession. Anna spoke and roused Mary from her thoughts.

"I hope you don't mind my lady, but I sent Miss Thompson to bed, she was feeling unwell, and I said I could manage you," she smiled.

"Thank you Anna. She was chosen by Richard you know," Mary didn't need to say anything else; Anna understood perfectly what she was implying. She let the maid work around her, enjoying the familiarity of it.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, but Mrs Branson...Lady Sybil, told me about what happened to you. About the baby. I'm very sorry my lady." She finished tying Mary's hair in a ribbon, rested a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed gently. Mary was grateful for the gesture. Having often seen Mary at her most vulnerable, Anna understood her former lady better than most. Except for maybe Mr Matthew, Anna thought to herself with a small smile. She had seen the exchange outside his room.

"Thank you Anna, that's very kind of you." She smiled weakly and blinked back some of the tears that had gathered. The maid left her and she got into her bed. She had no reason to cry tonight though. It was all going to be alright.

* * *

><p>Breakfast the next day was a far quieter affair than it had been the day before. Isobel and Cora had decided to have breakfast in their rooms. Even Tom was slightly subdued. It was probably the wine, Matthew thought, trying to ignore the dull ache in his own head.<p>

"Mary, I was going to go for a walk, would you like to come with me? Edith is coming as well," Sybil waited for Mary's response before standing. She hoped that Mary caught her deeper meaning. She wanted to talk to her sister. Matthew looked at them, and smiled at Mary. He had a lot to do today.

"Yes. I think I shall," she smiled at her, and the three sisters left the room.

Thompson had recovered and had Mary's outdoor winter clothes ready: thick tweed and wool skirts and coats, and gloves and hats, and sturdier boots. Edith and Sybil soon appeared in her room, in similar attire.

They all giggled as they walked past the library windows, noting that Matthew, James and Tom were all in the same position as their father – sat stiffly reading a newspaper, faces set in a stern expression, no-one talking and all turning their page at the same time. They all linked arms as they crunched through the snow and blinked as they turned a corner and were hit by the low sunlight glinting on the sparkling snow. They walked round through to the gardens. It had been so long since they had done this. They came to a bench and slumped onto it gracelessly, still giggling. Mary sat between her younger sisters, and for several minutes they just sat and watched the birds that were flitting about and enjoyed the stillness and the silence.

"Why did you tell me and Matthew that we would both here later than we were?" she wasn't angry, just curious.

"We just thought that you were such good friends before Lavinia died, and then after that..." Edith trailed off, but Sybil picked up for her.

"He didn't come to either of our weddings." Granted, Sybil and Tom's wedding had been far less grand and with fewer guests than Mary and Richard's, but she would still have liked Matthew to have been there.

"I'm sure that if he could have done he would have been at yours darling."

"We just want you to be friends again."

"We are friends again. Things are just different now..."

"Because of Richard and his mistress?" Mary shut her eyes at the words. It would all come out sooner or later; she supposed she may as well tell them both. Edith had turned to look at the other two.

"Yes. And because of the child that his mistress is carrying, which is something that I cannot give him. I am not a proper wife," she felt pressure on her hands and looked down to see that they each had one. "Matthew is going to see what it will take for me to divorce him, but I doubt very much that it would be anything but immensely difficult."

"But he's the one in the wrong," Edith protested.

"Yes but it's not as simple as that. He will try and destroy the family. He knows about Pamuk, that's how he got me to marry him." Recognition settled on Edith's face and she hung her head.

"I'm sorry Mary. I would never have...I didn't think...I'm so sorry," Mary squeezed her hand back, and was about to reply when Sybil interrupted.

"What am I missing? What about Pamuk?" and with that, Mary told both of her sisters everything, even about Matthew's proposal the previous day. Sybil spoke about Ireland and the baby and how nervous and excited she was, and Edith told them about the conversation she had had with James the night before. They had never talked so openly and honestly with each other before, and all three relished in this new closeness with each other. Tears were shed, apologies were made, and eventually they all leaned against one another, hands clasped together, until the cold started to seep into their very bones and they made their way back to the house. On passing the library again, they were amused to notice that the four men appeared not to have moved in the couple of hours that they had been gone.

* * *

><p>"Mary, I think it's time that you and I spoke," Robert stood after lunch was finished and led his daughter into the library. She sat down and waited for the barrage of questions, but they did not come. Instead he just sat opposite her, watching her thoughtfully, carefully thinking about what to say.<p>

"My dear girl...I wish you had told me. I could have helped. I could have stopped you from marrying that man."

"Oh Papa. I thought I was doing the right thing. I made a stupid mistake, and mistakes have consequences, and I just accepted that my marriage to Richard was a consequence of my actions." He moved to sit next to her, taking her hand, but not saying anything about the fact that she was not wearing her ring. "I also know that if I had been a stronger person then it would not have happened at all, and Matthew and I would most likely be married."

"You underestimate yourself my dear. You are strong. You kept this a secret for many years, and you turned down the man you love to protect him," he looked at her, hoping he had guessed that correctly. She gave a small nod. "You then married a man you do not love to protect your family. There are very few who would do what you have done, and I suspect that they would not be able to manage it with as half much grace," he smiled at her. "I don't want or need lots of details, just the basic facts." She nodded, knowing what he was asking, and looked him in the eye.

"He died in my bed. Mama and Anna helped me to carry him back to his room. The former Mrs Bates found out and was blackmailing Bates with the information. I went to Richard and he bought her silence. Richard has a mistress, who is carrying his child. I...I lost a child last month. I am...unable to ever have children," she took several deep breaths, trying to calm down, but every time she remembered, it was like re-opening a wound that hurt so very very much. Robert ached for her, for her lost child, for the child that he and Cora had lost in 1914, and he reached and embraced her, offering what little comfort he could. "At least you still have Sybil and Edith to provide you with grandchildren," she smiled weakly.

"Oh Mary," there were not enough words to express the sorrow he felt for her. "We will get you out of this," he spoke quietly but firmly. "Matthew spoke to Sir Edward earlier, and we are travelling down to meet him tomorrow," he stood and moved to the fireplace.

"Do you need me to come with you?"

"No. You stay here. You should probably go and inform your mother and grandmother of what is going on. I imagine we shall only be gone for one or two days. We will sort this out," she nodded, kissed his cheek and left, feeling as light as a feather.

* * *

><p>She stood at the door and watched as the car came round. It was so early that the light was only just breaking up the darkness of the night. She closed her hand around the toy. Robert kissed her on the cheek and headed to the motor, leaving her and Matthew alone for a moment. He stood in front of her, staring into her big brown eyes, not wanting to look away.<p>

"I've left the book you gave to me, and I've marked one or two pages that I think you should read," he smiled, but he was worried. His eyes gave him away. She nodded, and he reached for her hand and quickly kissed it, before following Robert. She sighed and Carson appeared at her side as the car made its way down the driveway.

"I am sure they will be successful my lady," his deep voice was soothing.

"I hope so Carson," and they went back inside.


	8. Chapter 8

_And just as quickly, another new chapter! This is longer than I thought it would be because I got a bit carried away. Also I have no idea if any of the legal stuff is right...pretty much just making it up as I go along, but it seems to work, and it definitely fits in with the story. I will warn you that it is very dialogue heavy, but there was really no other way round that, well not for how I want things to go anyway. Thank you for reading though!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Matthew stared out of the window, tapping his fingers on his cane and opening and closing his mouth. Robert eyed him over the edge of his newspaper.

"My dear chap, if you have something to say, then please just come out with it," he lowered the paper and smiled kindly at the younger man.

"The thing is...I was wondering...after all of this, if we can resolve it, if we can get Mary a divorce... Well I have asked her to marry me." He spoke defiantly, but there was no need. Robert simply raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Yes I rather thought you might. I take it she has accepted you or you would see no reason to mention it?"

Matthew's cheeks coloured. "She has. I know I should have come to you first..."

"I think that in light of everything, my permission is not necessarily something you feel you ought to seek. As long as you will make her happy, that is all I need from you." Matthew nodded.

"How bad do you think it will be?" Robert was suddenly serious.

"I don't know. Sir Edward sounded pleasant enough, but..." he trailed off. Neither of them knew what Sir Richard would be capable of.

* * *

><p>They arrived in London and were met by Sir Edward's chauffeur, who took them to a smart building near the Houses of Parliament. They were shown into his office and were informed by the secretary that he was on his way. She took their hats and coats and left. Minutes later the door opened, and a tall, thin, well dressed blonde man walked in, a stern expression on his face.<p>

"Sir Edward Winters. How do you do?" He offered his hand for Matthew and Robert to shake. As soon as he spoke, he smiled and instantly relaxed them, but his light brown eyes watched them intently. Matthew was surprised that the man before him was similar to his own age. He had imagined someone closer to Robert or Sir Richard's age. Sir Edward sensed his assessment and smiled.

"Mr Crawley," he nodded and shook the hand. "Lord Grantham," Robert nodded. "Please, sit. Would you like some tea?" Before they could answer, he had strode over to the door and called his secretary. Matthew and Robert exchanged a glance. This was not what they had expected.

"I studied the law at Oxford and was all set to practice it, but my father died when I was 23, and I have been a businessman since then," he answered, no-one else having actually spoken yet. It was almost as if he knew what they were thinking.

"We understand from Lady Mary, that you also have business in America," Matthew spoke quickly.

"Yes, and some recent acquisitions in Europe, as well some work with the House of Lords. But you are not here to discuss my business," he became very serious. "I am to divorce Madeline. I plan to put a bill through parliament. Madeline is from the French aristocracy, and they do not take kindly to divorce, but I will make her a very generous offer. If she does not accept it then she will not receive a penny."

"Excuse me, Sir Edward, but when were you...first aware of all of this?" Robert chose his words carefully.

"I was suspicious of the amount of visits that Sir Richard seemed to make to my house when I was away, and I asked my butler to...keep an eye on things and inform me of the frequency and length of the visits. I believe that Carlisle was informing Lady Mary that he had business meetings."

"How difficult do you think it will be for them to get a divorce?"

"Well, in theory, easily enough. We have the proof of his infidelity, and I can put forward her case with mine, and it would hopefully not take too much time. But he will not let her go quietly. He will try and block it at every turn. However, there are some other issues that have arisen."

"What do you mean?" Matthew spoke quietly. Just then, the tea was brought in, and Sir Edward waited until the secretary had left before speaking again.

"Due to the nature of a lot of my business, I only like to deal with people who I can trust. If a deal is proposed, whether by them or by myself, I will have them investigated before agreeing to anything." Matthew frowned.

"It is not illegal Mr Crawley, "he said with a smile. "Just because I do not practice, does mean that I lost my interest in the law. I have to protect my assets you understand. My father worked very hard to build his business up, and I am working just as hard to keep and increase that position."

"The other issues you mentioned. Are they relevant?" Robert interrupted.

"Ah yes, that. I understand that Mr John Bates was your valet Lord Grantham? And that he is currently under investigation for the murder of Mrs Vera Bates?" He stirred some sugar into his tea and watched the Earl with interest.

"Yes, that is correct. However, we believe him to be innocent, but the information we are given does not tell us much, if anything at all. His wife is also being kept in the dark."

"That would be a Mrs Anna Bates, formerly Miss Anna Smith, head housemaid at Downton?"

"Yes. Have you investigated us as well?" Robert attempted a joke.

"No, well, not quite," he smiled. "Some of this information is public knowledge, but I have connections that can procure me exactly what I need. However, you are right. John Bates is innocent. I am currently trying to secure evidence that proves it."

"If you know he's innocent, do you know who did kill her?" Sir Edward nodded slowly. Matthew held his breath. A hundred possibilities raced through his mind.

"I believe, and have some evidence to prove, that Sir Richard Carlisle killed Mrs Vera Bates." Both Robert and Matthew gasped. Sir Edward frowned. "This is where things appear to become more complicated. There is a connection between them-"

"What is your evidence that he killed Mrs Bates?" Matthew's legal brain had taken over and interrupted.

"I have several witnesses that put him at the scene around the time of the murder. Are you aware of the contract that existed between them?"

"Yes. Lady Mary informed us of that recently. For the silence of Mrs Bates, Mary was blackmailed into marrying Carlisle," Matthew took a sip of his tea. Sir Edward narrowed his eyes.

"She was blackmailed into marrying him? He really is a rat," for the first time in their meeting, Sir Edward had let slip a little of his non-business side. The side that was the cuckolded and angry husband. "That could work in our favour though," he resumed his professional tone. "It would be another charge to add to the adultery, along with the fraud."

"Fraud?" Matthew felt like he had missed something.

"Yes. It would appear that during the war, Carlisle was fixing his accounts and saying that there was a lot less money than there actually was to avoid his taxes going to the war effort," he looked at Matthew, who was pale and gripping his cane tightly. "I understand that you were a Captain Mr Crawley. Short of going to fight myself, I helped however I could," Sir Edward smiled kindly at Matthew, who gave a small smile back.

"Thank you. I am sure that whatever you did was received gratefully." His back ached, reminding him. He took a deep breath, "do you think that we could get Carlisle on a criminal charge for the fraud?"

"I believe so. The adultery and fraud will be enough for the divorce to go through, but the evidence that I am seeking would also secure a murder charge, and as a result would see him imprisoned for the rest of his life, or hanged. That would all depend on the judge though." Robert and Matthew sat back in their chairs, taking it all in. The telephone rang and startled them all. "Excuse me," Sir Edward smiled as he answered it. Robert turned to Matthew, "well I knew I didn't like him, but I never thought..." Robert didn't know what else to say. "Do you think Mary knew about the taxes?"

"I doubt it, but if it went to a trial there is a good chance that she would have to testify. Sir Edward seems to have a plan though," but before he could add anything else, Sir Edward ended his telephone call.

"My apologies. My contact has just informed that he has come into possession of the contract. Are you...do you know what it contains?"

"Yes. Lady Mary has also recently informed us of that information," Robert spoke.

"I can't prevent the contents becoming public knowledge. But I can limit the damage done to your family, yourself included Mr Crawley, but it will not be easy. Carlisle will assume that you are unaware of the incident in question, and it will be his first move, to ensure that it is released into the public domain. His second will be to smear both mine and Lady Mary's character."

"You'll have a defence though?"

"Yes of course. There is a great deal of evidence for the fraud, and the adultery. You see, my wife is not the only woman who bears a child of Sir Richard Carlisle."

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked, although he suspected that he already knew the answer.

"I have the statements of eight different women, all of whom have had a child in the past six years, and Carlisle is named as the father for each one. I also have copies of the contracts that he made them sign. A lump sum of money for their silence, but he has acknowledged paternity for all of these children. There may even be some that he has not acknowledged responsibility for."

"Does Mary know about them?" It would surely kill her if she did, Matthew thought.

"No. I only told her about my own wife. She would not know these women. Some of them are, ah how shall I put this, of a less than honourable reputation." Matthew and Robert understood perfectly. "It may come out though. At the moment I do not know how things are going to go. In a way, it all depends on Carlisle. If he chooses to be difficult, we will have to use everything we have against him."

"If you knew about the fraud before, how come you have not had him arrested for it?" Robert's head ached. He could not believe that he had given his daughter to this man, had even invited him into his home.

"I believe in waiting for an opportune moment Lord Grantham, and unfortunately, the impregnation of my wife was that moment." His face was grave. He stood and stared out of the window for moment before turning back to them. "I was wondering if I might speak to Mr Crawley alone?" Matthew looked surprised, but Robert just nodded and left the room.

"Mr Crawley, do you mind if I call you Matthew?"

"Erm no, not at all Sir Edward."

"Just Edward, please," he back down at the desk. "You proposed marriage to Lady Mary some time ago I believe." It wasn't a question. "Would that still be your intention once her divorce has come through?"

"Well...yes, I... yes it is."

"His associates would not make your life easy you understand, but I have a plan. I believe in making contingency plans Matthew. That way you can eliminate the element of surprise. Would you be prepared to move to Manchester?"

"I am already based in Manchester S...Edward. My mother and I moved from there to Downton several years ago...I am the heir to the Downton estate, but in April I...lost my fiancé to the Spanish flu, and moved back."

"I see. I am sorry about that. But my proposition is this, some of my business in Manchester needs more attention than it currently receives from me, but I am reluctant to get rid of it. I would provide you with a house and a very comfortable living, and in return you would provide some of my legal counsel here in London when required. I will also need you to act on behalf of Lady Mary and Mr Bates if we should go to a trial. I need someone younger than the current partners, and with a sharp legal mind, which I can see that you have."

"Excuse me, did you say partner?" Matthew looked at Sir Edward in disbelief.

"Yes I did. You would take my place as the partner in the firm I have there. I am a figurehead only. I think you would be a far more useful addition. If you accept, you and Lady Mary would be protected; and I impose no conditions for the eventuality of you taking over the Downton estate," he smiled broadly and offered his hand to Matthew. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes, thank you." He shook the other man's hand. Matthew was speechless.

"I'm glad Mary has someone to look out for her as well as you seem to be," Sir Edward's voice was soft. "I do like her, and I am sorry that she did not know what sort of man she married. She is a delightful dinner guest," he smiled.

"Yes, and on better acquaintance she does also allow other people to have an opinion," Matthew smiled wryly as he thought back to those first months at Downton all those years ago. Sir Edward nodded, checked his clock, then stood and went to let Robert back in the room.

"If you will excuse me gentlemen, I have an engagement this afternoon, but I would like you to return tomorrow if that is convenient. I fear we may still have much to discuss." He shook their hands with the same friendliness he had greeted them with. "Please leave an address with Miss Jones and I will send the car for you in the morning."

They smiled and left.

* * *

><p>That evening, they both sat in Rosamund's dining room and discussed the day. When he had telephoned, he had not expected her to agree to him and Matthew staying for one night, but had been pleasantly surprised at his sister's hospitality.<p>

"What did you think of Sir Edward?" Robert asked, swirling his brandy in the glass.

"I liked him. Mary said he had a pleasant manner, and he has offered me a job when the divorce is finalised. Did you like him?"

"Yes. Although I was surprised at his age, he must not be more than 34, or 35."

"No, but he has done very well," Matthew stared into the amber liquid in his glass. "I think he has more information than he was letting on. Not just about Carlisle, but about Bates as well."

Robert nodded, "do you think we have to tell Mary about the other children?" He would not relish that task, knowing how heartbroken she already was over the existence of one child.

"I think we must. Better for her to hear it from us than for it be splashed across a newspaper or revealed in a trial. I'll tell her. After all, I am hoping that she will be my wife when all of this is over!"

* * *

><p>Sir Edward was already at his desk when they entered the next day.<p>

"Good morning, I trust you had a pleasant evening," he looked at them expectantly.

"Yes thank you. My sister lives in London, and she was kind enough to let us stay last night."

"Lady Rosamund Painswick?" Edward asked, before holding up a copy of the family tree. Both Robert and Matthew smiled. "I have much to tell you today. My engagement yesterday brought something to my attention. I am now in possession of several witness statements that keep John Bates away from the scene and time of the murder." He looked down at the papers in front of him and started reading, "A Mr Thomas Johnson, a public house proprietor, has Mr Bates in his establishment from midday until half-past one, eating lunch, reading a newspaper, and having two jars of beer. He then left and returned at around six o'clock and appeared agitated and injured with some cuts to his face, near to his eye." Sir Edward stopped and looked up at the two men opposite him. He could not read their expressions.

"I then have a Reverend McDonald speaking to Mr Bates at the cemetery where his mother his buried. The reverend gives the time of this as about half-past five-"

"But we're still missing his whereabouts for four hours," Matthew interrupted. Sir Edward just looked at him and then back at the papers.

"The reverend also said he had been there for about half an hour before he approached him, noticing an injury to Mr Bates' face. The coroner suspects that the time of death of Mrs Bates is somewhere between five and seven o'clock. Mr Bates left the pub at eight o'clock, after eating, and he is placed at the train station at half-past eight. He then returned to Downton. As to his missing hours...well, the inspector believes that he went to see Mrs Bates, and they got into some sort of fight, she attacked him and he left."

"If there are all of these accounts that place Bates away from the scene, how come it has taken so long for them to come to light?"

"Carlisle was blackmailing them. He's very fond of getting contracts drawn up to ensure that people keep their word, and yet his meticulous attention to detail is his very undoing. It looks like Carlisle had someone trailing Bates that day and he paid them to keep their stories quiet, but they were informed that their information was imperative to a murder case and they would be imprisoned for withholding it."

Matthew rubbed his face. This was messy and complicated, but it looked like there was a way out.

"I also have some good news for you, although perhaps I should have told you that first. Carlisle has been arrested. Late last night, after these contracts came out. That and the fraud is enough to have him locked away for a long time."

"But you're still looking for something that absolutely proves he killed Mrs Bates, that he was there between five and seven," Matthew caught on.

"Yes. I can see I have made the right decision in offering you a job Mr Crawley," he smiled. "This is all enough to get the divorce as well, and my lawyers should be able to arrange for Lady Mary to receive a very generous settlement, although I hope that neither of you will mention what we have discussed here to her. It is obviously a very delicate matter." The two men nodded.

"What is the situation with Lady Madeline at present?" a dark look crossed Sir Edward's face at the mention of her.

"She is currently in the process of packing her things. She has accepted my offer for the divorce," his voice was soft. "She was never a trophy to me. I loved her, respected her, treated her as an equal..." he shook his head, and Robert regretted mentioning anything. "I would advise you to tell Lady Mary to clear any properties of her possessions. Once they have been confiscated, she will not be allowed back into them."

"What do you mean confiscated?" Robert wished he had more knowledge of the law.

"Because of the charge of fraud, Carlisle will be declared bankrupt. All properties and businesses will be sold. Mary will get a settlement once the divorce is finalised, and the rest will be used as taxes. He will have nothing." Matthew answered before Sir Edward had chance to. Silence settled over them as they all processed the information.

"Does Lady Mary have any servants?"

"Yes, her chauffeur and ladies maid accompanied her to Downton," replied Robert.

"You should also advise her to dismiss them. It is highly likely they are spying on her on his behalf." Sir Edward sat back in his chair, and sighed. Everything he had discovered in the past week about Carlisle made him feel sick. Discovering Madeline's secret had been bad enough, but to learn how he had treated Lady Mary, and his servants, and anyone that got in his way... If he could unlearn things he would. The two men in front of him looked equally appalled. He liked them both. Matthew was certainly showing himself to be an inquisitive lawyer, and the Earl was a very pleasant man. Sir Edward stood suddenly and opened a cabinet. He turned and handed them each a glass of brandy.

"Well Mr Crawley, Lord Grantham, I think we deserve this." They nodded and all raised their glass in a silent toast, and drank back the liquid.

Sometime later, Matthew and Robert left Sir Edward's office and were driven back to the train station, both of them feeling happier about the situation. Sir Edward promised to keep in touch, and requested that they visit him again in a few days.

As they relaxed on the train, they both smiled at the thought that Mary would soon be free of Carlisle, and that Bates would soon be free from prison. They both ignored the slightly nagging thought that Carlisle would try and stop them in any way he could. Although this would be more difficult for him in prison and without any resources at his disposal. They could do it though; Sir Edward was like a magician, thought Matthew. He had somehow managed to get everything that was needed to put Carlisle where he belonged. He hoped Carlisle wouldn't cause too much trouble though; he was going to lose everything whatever happened.

_Sorry if you found this a bit boring, but needs must and all that jazz. There is still more to come though!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Apologies for the delay, but I've been writing the ending to this, and I wanted to get that done before I got distracted by something shiny. I'm also aiming to get it finished before the big day itself!  
><em>

_Also, this became much longer than I intended it to be but I really didn't want to cut anything out! It also kind of gets a bit darker towards the end. And, as always, thank you so much for reviews/alerts etc. I really do appreciate it! Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Mary heard the car approach. She had been listening for it all afternoon. At the sound of the front door being opened, she hurried out of the drawing room to find Carson taking the hats and coats of her father and Matthew. "How did you get on?" All Matthew had done for the past two days was talk and think about Mary, but he was momentarily surprised to see her stood in front of him, anxiously twisting her hands. Robert nodded at him and made his way into the room Mary had just left. Matthew looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time in a very long time. She was in a simple but elegant blouse and skirt. She was so beautiful it made him ache. He was dreading the task of telling her what he had learnt from Sir Edward.

"Is there somewhere we can go where we won't be disturbed...or overheard?" He spoke quietly. She frowned, she knew it would be bad, but this...well, so far, it was looking a lot worse than she expected.

"Of course," she nodded and indicated for him to follow her upstairs. They stopped outside a room. A bedroom. Her bedroom. He swallowed nervously as he realised. She opened the door, and he was surprised at the cosiness of the room. The red of the walls, which in many rooms would create a more sinister atmosphere, made it seem warm and inviting, especially with the fire crackling across the room. She gestured for him to go in, and shut the door behind them. He stood nervously, not knowing whether, or even where to sit, and not wanting to look around too much. This was her private space. She leaned with her back against the door. She suddenly realised what she had done. She had brought a man into her bedroom while she was a married woman. Sometimes she really did wonder at herself, but it was too late now. "Please, sit. We won't be disturbed in here," she nodded to the armchair behind him but he remained where he was, both of them looking around the room, the awkward silence enveloping them. Matthew was thinking about how to start when Mary spoke.

"I received a telegram earlier today. It said that Richard has been arrested." Her face was neutral, her voice level.

"Yes, yes he has. For blackmail and fraud," he paused wondering how much he could get away with not telling her.

"Blackmail and fraud?" Her mouth was open in shock.

"Yes. Bates is innocent. There are witness statements that prove he was not there at the time of the murder and Carlisle..." he sighed and stared at the floor. He was going to have to tell her more than he wanted to. "Carlisle paid for these accounts to be kept quiet. They were only released when the witnesses were told that they were essential to a murder investigation. It would appear that Carlisle is very keen at drawing up contracts when he makes arrangements. This works against him now though," he said softly, remembering Sir Edward's words. "As for the fraud," he caught her expression, and spoke before she could. "Throughout the war, he was doctoring his accounts so that it looked like there was less money, so that his taxes would not go towards the war effort." He looked up and she had her eyes closed and was gripping the door handle tightly.

"Did you know about any of this? It may go to a trial, and if it does, you may be questioned." She shook her head.

"No. No, I didn't know any of it." He stepped forward to her and reached for her hand, prising it from the doorknob. Her skin was cool even though he could feel heat radiating from her. Or maybe it was from him. He had felt warm since realising she was taking him into her bedroom.

"Mary. There's something else. Two things really," their eyes met and he gently pulled her towards the bed. "I think you should sit down."

"Matthew what is it?" She was worried now. "Am I able to get a divorce?" Please say yes, please say yes...please, she repeated in her head.

"Yes," her face lit up. He briefly wondered how long she would wear that expression when she knew. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "But...Carlisle...Lady Winters... Sir Edward has proof that Carlisle has fathered other children. He gave them a sum of money in return for their silence, but he has acknowledged paternity of them." Her hands flew to her mouth in horror and a strangled cry escaped from her lips. Her shoulders started shaking and loud sobs came from behind her fingers. Matthew pulled her close and she buried her head against his chest. He rubbed her back, knowing there was nothing else he could do, the sound of her crying breaking his heart. It was like being stabbed with a burning knife. It ripped through her and made her feel like she was actually bleeding. There was not just one woman who could give her husband what he wanted. There were several. The words kept repeating and twisting around her head, both confusing and disgusting her. She was a failure as a woman, as a human being. Why was Matthew even anywhere near her? He should be running for the door and escaping. He would be better off without her. She was not a proper wife to her current husband. There was no way she could be one to the man she actually loved.

"Mary, there's something else you need to know," at that her head snapped up and she looked into his eyes, their vivid blue filling her vision. "Sir Edward thinks that Carlisle killed Mrs Bates, and he's trying to get hold of some evidence that will prove it." What little colour was left drained from her face. She stopped crying instantly.

"Murder?" Matthew nodded. It felt like all of the breath had left her body. Matthew felt stifled. There was no air in the room. He stood and headed to the window, opening it slightly and briefly enjoying the cold rush of air that hit him. "Murder?" She repeated, but softer. "Can Sir Edward prove it do you think?"

"Yes. I won't go into detail, but the information that he has managed to collect so far, and what he hopes to discover... If found guilty, there is a good chance that Sir Richard would hang." He turned back to face her. She had not moved.

"Do you think he did it?" Her voice was low, and her face was set in a frown.

"Yes. After meeting with Sir Edward. Yes. I believe Sir Richard to be entirely capable of murder. I'm so sorry Mary." She stood and stepped closer to him, attempting a smile but failing.

"You shouldn't be. You weren't to know. I didn't even know. I didn't even suspect..." she took another step closer, wanting to be near him, and yet wanting him to be far away at the same time. Magnetism. "What will happen to the houses? And the servants?"

"You need to send them back to London, and retrieve any possessions you have at the houses, because you will not allowed back in to them once the proceedings start." He couldn't help himself, he reached for her hand. One soft, cool hand. She didn't resist. "I am sure you will be able to stay here, or even at Crawley House while everything is being sorted." A look passed across her face but he could not read it. Unconsciously, they moved closer to each other, their eyes fixed on each other's.

"Thank you Matthew. I know that it cannot have been easy for you to find out all of this, or for Papa either," he reached out and rested a hand on her cheek. She tilted her head towards his hand. He shouldn't want to be near her. She told herself that once her divorce came through, he would not want to be near her, he was there as her lawyer. And yet... And yet, the feel of his hand on her cheek was just so right, the closeness she felt to him again... She pushed away the thoughts that were causing her so much confusion and just enjoyed the sensation of his skin against hers. Matthew knew that he should be remaining detached, at least until things were finalised. He hoped she wasn't having second thoughts. He just wanted to protect her. To be her knight on a white horse, not that she was likely to give fancy to such fairy tale notions. He would have to try and stay away from her unless it was absolutely necessary. He was trying, and failing, to control the line his thoughts were taking. He was a professional. But for now, it was just the two of them in their own world. No Richard. No children. No nothing. Just each other.

A knock on the door brought them back to reality and they sprang apart. "Come in," Mary's voice was strained. Anna appeared and pretended not to be surprised that Matthew was in Mary's bedroom, stood by the window and trying to look natural, as if he was in there all the time.

"Excuse me my lady, but it's about Mr Barker and Miss Thompson."

"What is it Anna?"

"Well, they received a telephone call not too long ago," she looked between the two people who were watching her with interest. "They've left my lady."

"Who was the telephone call from?" Matthew stepped forward. Anna straightened up, reluctant to tell them.

"Sir Richard's solicitor."

"Do you know what was said Anna?"

"I don't. I'm sorry Mr Crawley. Mrs Hughes is at present checking their rooms, in case they left a note. I just thought you should know," she bobbed her head and left the room.

"How soon are you able to travel to London?" Matthew's face was serious, his brow creased in concentration.

"As soon as you need me to, why?"

"If Sir Richard has already had your servants dismissed then it is likely that he is now aware of your intention to divorce him. I rather hoped we'd have a few more days. What do you have at your house in London?" He had almost said home, but it wasn't a home to her, not really.

"Clothes, books..."

"Are any of the furnishings from here, from Downton?" She shook her head. "Nothing that belongs to the family?" Another shake. "So anything there could be replaced?"

"Well I suppose-"

"What about at Hacksby?"

"The same...Matthew, what-" He was pacing now. They would have to act quickly. He had not expected it to be so quickly though.

"I must find your father, and telephone Sir Edward. We need to be in London as soon as possible. Do you think Anna could be spared from her duties tomorrow?"

"I imagine so-"

"Good. She can go to Hacksby. Send Thomas with her." She was frowning at him, but he was oblivious.

"Matthew, will you kindly tell me what is going on and why you are asking me all of these questions?" She spoke loudly and sharply. He turned and looked at her in surprise, as if he had forgotten that she was actually there.

"We need to retrieve your property before you are locked out. We will go to London tomorrow, and see Sir Edward. I will ask your father if we can take Carson and he can oversee things at the house in London, and Anna and Thomas should go to Hacksby. My dear, we need to act quickly. I did not expect that he would...he is going to make this as difficult as possible." His face softened and he stepped towards her, seeking her gaze. "I promise you that we will sort this out." He lightly pressed his lips to her forehead and left the room, leaving Mary staring after him feeling a strange mix of disbelief, desperation and hope.

* * *

><p>The past 24 hours had been a blur of activity and telephone calls back and forth to London and rearranging plans and staff at the house, until it had eventually been decided that Cora, Anna and Thomas would go to Hacksby to collect Mary's things from there, while Violet, Carson and Tom would go to the Carlisle residence in London to retrieve her belongings. Robert, Matthew and Mary were to meet with Sir Edward. Mary was sat between her father and grandmother on the train. Matthew was opposite between the other two men. He tried to smile at her but she was too distracted to notice.<p>

She was deep in thought, recalling how her mother and grandmother had reacted to the news. She was surprised at the compassion they had shown, especially because it wasn't the 'done' thing to get a divorce. Sybil and Edith had sat on either side of their sister, already knowing most of the story. Tom had threatened to hunt down Carlisle himself, but Robert had soon put a stop to those sorts of notions, for now anyway. James had merely sat and nodded and agreed that yes, Carlisle really was a despicable man, not really knowing what else he could say. The servants all knew now as well, but Mary could hardly object when the whole country was about to find out much worse. She knew they were all watching her out of the corner of their eyes, trying to work out if at any moment she might burst into tears. She half-wished that she wasn't going to London and that she could have gone to Hacksby instead. She let out a loud frustrated sigh and five heads turned in her direction.

"Mary dear-"

"I'm fine Granny. Really." The heads all turned and were glancing at each other. She would have preferred to walk to London. At least then she would have gotten some peace. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She smiled at Violet, who just nodded and smiled back.

The train pulled into the station and Mary felt a heavy weight settle on her chest. It had only been a few days since she had left, but it already felt like a lifetime ago. She clutched her bag tightly, protecting its contents. Her father was giving instructions to the rest of the party. Mary stood away from the group, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to repress all of the things she was feeling. Today was not the day for crying, for feeling. Today was...well, it was going to be a nightmare. A hand on her arm jolted her and she saw that Matthew was at her side.

"The car is waiting for us. It's going to be alright Mary," she nodded, avoiding his gaze, and followed him, looking back to see Tom and Carson following her grandmother into their waiting vehicle.

* * *

><p>"Lady Mary, it is a pleasure to see you again, despite the circumstances," she smiled at Sir Edward's friendliness and took his waiting hand. A pang of jealousy coursed through Matthew at their established relationship. A sudden horrible thought sprang to the front of his mind...what if Mary and Sir Edward were somehow united by the grief of their betraying spouses? They would understand what the other was going through. What if she preferred Sir Edward and decided to marry him after the divorces were finalised? As these thoughts swam around his head, Matthew became a bit sharper towards Sir Edward, shaking his hand more roughly than he had before. Sir Edward frowned, and then saw the way that Matthew kept glancing at Mary, and smiled.<p>

"Please, all of you take a seat. I shall call for some tea." The tea arrived, and Sir Edward's cheery nature did something to dissipate the tension that was coming from Mary, Matthew and Robert, but not enough to relax them completely. "I understand that the reclamation of your possessions is being undertaken as we speak?"

"Yes. My mother is overseeing things at Hacksby, and my grandmother here. I feel I ought to apologise Sir Edward," he looked at her curiously. She was a very beautiful and intelligent woman. He could see why Carlisle had pursued her, why Matthew's gaze kept flicking to her. It was a shame that she was spoken for, or he would have tried to court her when their divorces came through.

"Apologise? What on earth for?"

"Well Richard...he is my husband, and..." she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say.

"No. You must not apologise for him. You were as unaware as I was. He is a villain and a scoundrel, and truthfully, I am glad that I am able to help you get away from him. So please, do not say sorry. He made his decisions himself, as did Madeline," his voice cracked on her name, and his eyes met Mary's, and he noticed the look in hers that he also wore. The tired, betrayed spouse. At least she didn't love Carlisle though. "Anyway, to business. You are going to have to visit him in prison, preferably today. I know that you probably do not wish to see him ever again... I shall accompany you, as will your father and Mr Crawley," he looked at them both and got a nod in reply. "A prison is no place for a lady." He frowned, distracted.

"What will I need to say or do?" Mary was glad of the cup and saucer that she was holding, because she knew that her hands would be unable to keep still otherwise. Of course she would have to see Richard. It was silly to think otherwise. She was grateful then for the presence of her father and Matthew.

"You will need to formally ask for a divorce. I have had some papers drawn up that he will need to sign, just confirming that he will agree to a divorce and the settlement that I have suggested. Would you like to have a look?" He handed her the papers, knowing that it wasn't about the money for her. She read them quickly and then handed them to Matthew to read.

"Do you think he will agree? To sign I mean?" Robert spoke for the first time, a hint of hope creeping into his voice.

"I hope so. If he refuses then we can get a judge to grant an order to make him sign. He is facing serious criminal charges so it would be very foolish of him not to sign. And no judge would refuse to grant the divorce with all of the evidence we have against him. Is it an acceptable contract Mr Crawley?" Sir Edward turned his attention to Matthew.

"Yes, very much so. The settlement is very generous, but would they actually allow that much of his money to go to Mary?"

"I believe so. And again, if he should refuse, a judge can intervene," he checked the time. "I think that perhaps we should succumb to the inevitable now. I shall call for the car." Mary's heart sank. She felt sick. She had only seen Richard the day before she had returned to Downton, and now everything had changed and she was to see him in prison. The men let her leave the room first, and Robert followed.

Sir Edward turned to Matthew before they left, "you don't have to worry about me Mr Crawley. I am perfectly able to comprehend that some things are just meant to be," he said in a soft voice. "And if I'm not mistaken, I'd say your affections are most definitely returned," he nodded at Mary's retreating back.

"Thank you. And I hope you're right. It is sometimes difficult to tell with Mary..." she had barely spoken to him since yesterday in her bedroom and he was at a complete loss as to why that would be. He could tell that this trip to London had set her on edge, and she was more like how she'd been when she first got back to Downton. He hoped that her thoughts weren't going in a direction that would separate them after her divorce came through, but part of him suspected that they just might be.

* * *

><p>Robert squeezed her hand as the guards let them in. Sir Edward had taken the lead, and introduced them to his own solicitor, a Mr Wilkinson, who had met them at the prison. Mr Wilkinson, a stout man with an impeccable beard and polite manner, had informed the guard that they needed to see Richard Carlisle. Matthew had tried not to smirk at them not using his title. They were shown into a room that was sparsely furnished with just a simple table and two chairs. Mary shivered and automatically stepped closer to Matthew. She focussed on taking deep breaths. The metal of the door was clanking and everyone in the room waited with bated breath. Two guards entered the room, and between them was Sir Richard. He looked so different than how they had last seen him. Gone were the expensive tailored clothes, to be replaced with the grey of the prison uniform. His hair was messy and he obviously hadn't had a shave for a day or two. He looked dishevelled. He sneered at them as he was brought in and sat down on the chair, the two men remaining at his side, maintaining a hold on his shoulders, even though he was shackled. Matthew and Robert both instinctively stepped in front of Mary. Sir Edward and Mr Wilkinson stepped forward and laid out the papers on the table in front them. Mary couldn't breathe. She had no idea what was being said, she just couldn't keep her eyes off her husband. His cruel gaze kept seeking her out, trying to intimidate her.<p>

"So I see you've already got Crawley fighting for you. Poor little Lady Mary. Always in need of a saviour," his words were laced with venom but Mary did not flinch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew tense up.

"If I were you Carlisle, I'd keep my mouth shut. Speak when spoken to and all that," Mr Wilkinson spoke before anyone else could. He was not a man to be messed with, and after discovering what he had, he wanted nothing more than to see this vile, arrogant man before him, hanged. Carlisle was determined to have his say though, and ignored the warning of the lawyer.

"Has she told you Crawley? Told you about her dirty little secret?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact she has. And the rest of her family," Matthew was amazed at how calm he managed to keep his voice. Inside he felt like a volcano, ready to snap at any minute while white hot fury pulsed through him. He gripped his cane, and clenched his other hand into a fist, digging his fingernails into his palm.

"Anything else?" Mr Wilkinson glared at Sir Richard, who just sneered. "If you do not sign this contract agreeing to divorce Lady Mary Carlisle, formerly Crawley, then a judge will be summoned who will grant an order forcing you to sign. If such an order is granted, you will be removed from this prison and sent to the asylum." Sir Richard watched the faces of everyone in the room. Robert's was set into a deep frown. Matthew's was angry. Sir Edward and the lawyer looked bored. Mary. Mary had no expression. It was a mask he had seen often during their marriage.

"I'll sign. Because why would I want to stay married to a common whore? I CAN STILL DESTROY YOU!" He shouted and stood up, causing his guards to grip him fiercely as he tried to get closer to her, four men now blocking her from him. They dragged him out of the room. Sir Edward and Mr Wilkinson quickly followed to go and speak to the warden.

"Mary are you alright?" Matthew had turned to face her, one hand lightly resting on her arm. He reached up a hand and wiped away a tear from her cheek. She hadn't even realised she had been crying.

"I think so. Yes. I just need some air." Matthew and Robert nodded and escorted her through the prison, one on each side. This was no place for a lady. No place for any decent person. She kept her head high as she tried to ignore the whistles and lewd comments that were made as they walked back past the cells. They led her straight back outside to the car.

"Lady Mary!" Matthew, Robert and Mary all turned to find Sir Edward walking hurriedly after them. "He is back in his cell. The warden has called for Carlisle's solicitor. We have to return to tomorrow, but without Mr Crawley."

"Why?" Robert spoke, having been unusually quiet since arriving at the prison.

"Carlisle does not want him around. He is only willing to speak to Lady Mary, myself and Mr Wilkinson. I'm sorry, but if you are an excuse for him to delay or be difficult then he will abuse it," he said turning to Matthew.

"What about me? Can I accompany her?" After witnessing Carlisle's behaviour in the prison, Robert didn't want to leave Mary's side until they were safely back at Downton.

"I'm sorry Lord Grantham." Sir Edward shook his head sadly. If he could have his way, he would gladly have the Earl and Matthew at Mary's side, but he also knew they would have to at least give the appearance of complying with some of Carlisle's requests to get what they wanted.

"Papa, it will be alright. Sir Edward will look after me," she clutched her father's hand and smiled at him, wishing he could be there just as much as he wanted to be there. She couldn't look at Matthew. If this was what she had to do, then so be it. Mr Wilkinson appeared suddenly.

"Excuse me Mr Crawley, you're wanted inside for a moment," he looked hard at Matthew, hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out. Sir Edward had told him that he was a bright and inquisitive man and would be a welcome addition to Sir Edward's empire. Matthew frowned, glanced at Mary and nodded once, before following the older man back inside. "Carlisle has expressed a wish to speak to you," Matthew nodded again. This was not going to be pleasant. This time, he was led to a cell door. The guard reached for his cane. "I'm sorry sir. We will just be outside though, and we'll leave the door open. His shackles are fixed." The guard opened the door and Matthew peered into the dimly lit cell. Carlisle was stood with his back to the door. Matthew took a deep breath and stepped inside.

"Mr Crawley. Thank you for dragging yourself away from my wife," he turned slowly, restricted by the heavy manacles. "You were wise to avoid our wedding, when she agreed to be mine."

"I am here as her legal counsel," Matthew replied, ignoring the latter remark.

"But nothing more?" He gave a hollow laugh but the evil glint in his eyes gave away his true feelings. "You see Crawley, I know everything about her...things that no-one else knows, except for maybe Kemal Pamuk, but we both know how that ended," his eyes never left Matthew's, who was doing his best to remain calm. He knew what Sir Richard was alluding to, and he was momentarily grateful that he didn't have his cane. "Let me guess, you have a notion that if I divorce her, you can swoop in and have her for yourself." He waited for Matthew to respond, to give something away, but he didn't. He just continued to stare at him, his face blank. Inside, Matthew was wondering how they had all missed the look on Carlisle's face that was somewhere between a smirk and a sneer, the patronising tone of his voice, the cruel look in his eyes. Stay calm. Just stay calm. For Mary. Sir Richard took a step closer to Matthew, the chains jangled faintly.

"Know this Crawley, you do not want to get on the wrong side of me. You do not want to cross me," he spoke quietly, making him seem even more dangerous.

"Sir Richard, you are the one who is currently in prison and facing financial ruin. Perhaps you should be more careful next time you want to threaten me." Matthew maintained an indifferent, polite tone, but it took a lot of effort.

"And he speaks. She'll never have you you know. You could never provide for her as I have done."

"Perhaps not. But at least I could make her happy," Matthew realised what he had said and clenched his jaw, desperately trying not to give Carlisle more ammunition against Mary.

"Aah, so you have asked her then? Poor Matthew. Whatever she has said is a lie. She didn't want you back then, and she won't want you now. She is only using you to get back at me. Why else would she flirt with the poor crippled country solicitor when she has now got Sir Edward looking out for her?" Somehow, Carlisle had hit on the thing that had been Matthew's sore spot all day, despite what Sir Edward had said, and he flinched. The other man smirked and continued to stare at him.

After what seemed like hours, Matthew finally managed to speak, "are you going to agree to the divorce?"

"Struck a nerve have I Crawley? She's no use to me anymore. She's nothing but a liar, and a whore. She is damaged goods. But if it disrupts your plans..." his voice was dripping with malice and he smiled; a cold, cruel smile.

"I would advise you to agree to it. You're only making things more difficult for yourself." Matthew's voice and stare were as icy as the roads outside. He turned to leave but a hand suddenly had an iron grip on his arm, pulling him closer to the other man.

"You be careful Mr Crawley. I will not warn you again. If you cross me, you will pay, make no mistake about that," he hissed sinisterly. Matthew pulled his arm free and left. He was aware of the guards handing him back his cane and leading him back to the front of the building. He was aware of the figure of Sir Edward waiting for him and him saying something about the car taking Mary and Robert back to his office but that it was coming back to collect them. He was aware of how fast his heart was pounding, how the blood was racing around his body, making him dizzy. He was also aware of the sick feeling in his stomach, of the bile rising up his throat. But mostly, he was aware of Sir Richard's words ringing in his ears and the horrible thoughts that accompanied them.

_Ooooh Richard's just so evil...I love it! And mini applause for anyone that can spot the line I borrowed from 'Beauty and the Beast'! Also apologies if any historical details (i.e. prison etc) aren't right, but ho hum, never mind._


	10. Chapter 10

_Sincerest apologies for the delay on this, but it wasn't going how I wanted it to and I kept changing my mind…but it's here now.  
>As always, thank you <em>_**so**__ much for reviews and alerts…they are what are keeping me going when I just want to give up!_

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Mary was opening and closing her little bag. She had been pacing until her father had told her to sit down. It had been almost an hour since they had left the prison. It was obvious that it was Richard who had wanted to speak to Matthew. She had no idea what he would say, but she knew that it would not be good. He would probably threaten Matthew. She didn't even dare to think about what he would say about her. She hoped that whatever it was, Matthew would not believe Richard. However, she still couldn't rid herself of the constant internal conflict between wanting to be with Matthew, and wanting to be as far away as possible from him. She was a curse. She could not ruin things for him again. She fiddled with the bag again, looking intently at its contents. One soft toy dog – check. A handkerchief – check. Some money – check. A folded piece of paper, the words on which were memorised – check. She pulled out the piece of paper and read it. Sonnet 116. As soon as Matthew and her father had left a few days ago, she had headed to the library and scanned the shelves for the book, but had not found it. Instead, Mr Molesley had appeared with it as he was heading back to Crawley house some time later. She took it up to her bedroom and found the marked pages. The sonnet and 'Much Ado About Nothing'. She had read the play and smiled. She supposed that he wanted her to imagine them as Beatrice and Benedick, brought together after a war and bantering their way around their feelings. She had then read the sonnet several times before getting her meaning from it. She then wrote it out and tied it with a piece of ribbon to the toy dog, which was now kept, hidden, on her person at all times. She would be mortified if anyone found out, but if her own toy and a 300year old poem was all she was to have to remind her of Matthew, then they deserved to be treasured, even if she did not deserve him.

Robert watched his daughter carefully. She had not shown any reaction to what Carlisle had said at the prison, but she had barely spoken on the drive back to Sir Edward's office. She was nervous, but it was not the same anxiety that he had witnessed on her wedding day. This was something else. It was more like how she had been when they had heard that Matthew had been injured in the war. She read something quickly before stuffing it back in the bag. Since discovering the truth about Sir Richard, Robert had felt in some way responsible, that he had somehow let Mary down by letting her marry him. He had tried not to think too much about her revelation that she would not be able to have children, but it had played on his mind that even if she had married Matthew all those years ago, there still would not have been an heir, a grandchild. He wished she was a little girl again, really he wished that she hadn't grown up at all, that the other two hadn't grown up either. Things had been so much easier when they were little, but he felt more protective of Mary, of them all, now than he had ten...fifteen...even twenty years ago. He had told her to stop pacing because it was making him anxious, but the bag fiddling was almost as bad.

"Mary," he folded the newspaper he'd been trying to read and sat forward in his chair. "You heard Mr Wilkinson, even if Richard doesn't want to sign, they will make him." She looked at him, her brown eyes brimming with tears. He was at her side in an instant. "Oh my darling girl," he held her and kissed her head. After a moment, she pulled away and wiped her face.

"I'm sorry Papa. I can't seem to stop doing that at the moment. I think I'll telephone Downton and see how they got on at Hacksby." Before she could go anywhere, the office door opened and Sir Edward entered, followed by Matthew.

"What did he say?" Mary spoke directly to Matthew, almost ignoring Sir Edward. He closed his eyes. He couldn't tell her what her husband had said.

"I don't want…I can't talk about it." The other three heard his slip. It must be bad.

"But-"

"No Mary. Please, just leave it." He ran his hands through his hair and started pacing, her eyes following him round the room. Sir Edward and Robert watched them both, not quite sure how to react.

"Miss Jones has informed me that everything is now sorted at the London house," Sir Edward spoke quickly to try and ease some of the sudden tension. "I suspected that you may be here for longer than just a day, so I took the liberty of having some rooms arranged at my house, so that you can stay."

"That's very kind Sir Edward. I hope I am not rude when I say though that my mother, my son-in-law and the butler from Downton will be in need of a place to stay as well," Robert spoke. Mary was still watching Matthew, who was deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"Not at all. I will telephone and send a driver to collect them and take them to my house. In fact, we should probably be heading there ourselves." Maybe everyone would relax a bit in a more comforting environment. He hoped they would anyway.

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><p>"This is Mr and Mrs Johnson, my butler and housekeeper," Sir Edward beamed at his guests. "If you need anything at all, then do not hesitate to ask them. And yes, they are married," he smiled as Violet raised a disapproving eyebrow, having arrived with Tom and Carson just minutes after Sir Edward, Robert, Matthew and Mary.<p>

They were shown in to the dining room for their late lunch where Sir Edward ensured that Matthew and Mary were sat next to each other. Carson stood awkwardly, uncertain of where he was supposed to be.

"Mr Carson, please, sit. You are a guest," Sir Edward smiled kindly at the older man, who was quite taken aback with the whole situation.

Violet dominated the conversation over lunch, which made Matthew feel strangely relieved. If no-one could speak, then at least he could avoid Mary's questioning. What wasn't so easy to ignore was her. She was sat just inches away, picking at the food in front of her, eyes flicking to him every few seconds. He felt like he was fighting some sort of natural instinct in not talking to her. After all of the progress they had made in the past few days, and now they were right back to where they had been before Christmas. Mary couldn't eat. She wasn't even completely sure what was on the plate. Matthew was ignoring her, avoiding meeting her eye. He had even shifted slightly away from her in his chair. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt any less. For once, she was glad of her grandmother's forceful personality and general tendency to take over. She caught Carson's eye and he gave her a small smile, one that she wished she could return. They were interrupted by Mrs Johnson informing them that Mary had a telephone call. Matthew had a flashback to Christmas Day, and hoped that it was just her mother or one of her sisters. Everyone watched her leave the room, and Matthew fought every single instinct to go after her, the tighter than necessary grip on his cutlery the only indication that something was wrong.

"It was Mama. Everything at Hacksby is sorted," she sighed as she sat back down. She supposed she would have to go back to Downton. It's not that she would mind as such, just that she had already left and had been running her own home, and now to be moving back to live with her parents… As if reading her mind, and each other's, a single thought crossed the mind of two of the men in the room, and they both spoke at once.

"You could stay at Crawley House-"  
>"You could stay here-" both men looked at each other. Everyone else looked between them with a look that was half amused, half surprised. Mary swallowed and thought carefully about her reply.<p>

"How very noble of you both. Mary, you will stay with me until something more appropriate is found," she shot her grandmother a grateful smile.

"Well. That's settled then," she took a sip of water and tried not to feel too hopeful about Matthew's offer. He would be returning to Manchester soon; he was probably just being polite. The house belonged to the estate anyway, but staying with Granny would suffice. For now anyway. Surely it wouldn't be that bad…

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><p>Breakfast the next day was tense. In fifty-three minutes, Mary would be returning to the prison to see her husband, and she wasn't allowed to have her father or Matthew with her. Both Carson and Tom had volunteered to go with her but she had declined their offers, knowing that they were eager to be back at Downton, and Violet had said that she really should return because Rosamund would be arriving there later that day. She took a bite of some toast but the dry scratchy texture instantly made her feel sick. She forced it down with a mouthful of tea and quickly excused herself, heading to the room that had been hers the night before. She paced and fiddled and tapped, until a knock on the door dragged her back to behaving like a rational person. It was time to leave. She said a quick goodbye to Robert and Matthew, who were remaining at the house until they returned, and followed Sir Edward to his car.<p>

Mr Wilkinson met them at the prison as he had done the day before, and they were shown to the same dreary room to wait. The guards entered with Sir Richard, and Mary felt like she was flashing back to the previous day. All the same, but all different, just like everything else. Another man entered and Mary recognised him as Mr Michaels, Richard's legal counsel. The men all nodded at each other, but Mary and Richard's gaze was fixed on each other, him wearing the same disdainful expression he had worn the day before. Had always worn but had been overlooked, thought Mary.

"Where's your knight, Mrs Carlisle?" He always had to have the first word, as well as the last. He really did talk far too much.

"I don't know what you are talking about Richard. I have come here with the intention of asking for a divorce, based on the grounds of adultery," she kept her tone cold, her face composed, and ignored the possessive way he referred to her.

"Now now my dear, this will not do. Not at all. I thought we had agreed 'for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer'?" He spoke to her as if he was chastising a child. Mr Wilkinson decided to intervene then.

"Carlisle, we have got evidence proving adultery. We have got evidence proving blackmail. We have got evidence proving fraud," he handed a stack of papers to Mr Michaels, who flicked through them with interest. "As we discussed yesterday, if you contest the divorce you will be sent to the asylum, and I think with all of the soldiers they have there, you would be in a great deal more danger than you are here. They may not take too kindly as to why you committed fraud."

"You said you were innocent of the blackmail," Mr Michaels' voice cut through the room. "Innocent? There's enough evidence here to have you heading for the gallows!" He slapped the papers down in front of Carlisle who, if you were watching as closely as Mary was, flinched. Barely, and controlled, but he did. It was clear to her all of a sudden, he thought he could get away with it, with all of it. "Sign the bloody papers Richard. Grant her the divorce. There's no way any one in their right mind would agree to keep her married to you!" Mary, Sir Edward, Mr Wilkinson (and the guards) were watching this new exchange with interest. Clearly Richard was a liar, as well as everything else.

"I can prevent you from hanging," Sir Edward's voice was low and level as he leaned across the table, mere inches from the seated man. "If you agree to the settlement and to the divorce, I can ensure a more sympathetic judge, and you will get to live out the rest of your days here." Mary didn't know if Sir Edward was lying or not. He hadn't even mentioned the murder suspicions, but then Mary thought that maybe she wasn't meant to know about those either, not yet anyway. He stared at Sir Richard, neither one backing down until eventually Sir Edward won and Richard made a show of reading through the papers.

"He'll never have you now you know." Carlisle's voice rang out through the room as he shuffled the papers and pretended to read them. Mary didn't need to ask who he was referring to. His own lawyer stood holding out a pen to him, as if suddenly bored by the situation, by his employer. "Why would he? You're damaged goods." He took the pen and signed the indicated pages. Mary made to leave the room. She felt sick. "Are you paying for his services?" No-one could miss the malevolent tone of his voice, and the lawyers looked between each other and Mary and Carlisle with unease. "I'm sure a visit to your bed would be payment enough for him," he sneered maliciously.

She wasn't quite sure how it happened, but suddenly her hand collided with his cheek in a loud and satisfying slap. He reeled back from the impact of it and the guards tightened their grip on him, partly to prevent him reaching to hit her back, and partly to let her hit him again if she felt the need to. She didn't. The leather of her glove had left an angry red mark on his cheek and blood was starting to trickle out of his nose. She must have got him harder than she thought. "You'll pay for that you common slut!" he shouted as she headed for the door, turning to deliver her final words to him.

"No Richard. I've already paid, for all of it," and with that she left, keeping her head high and not stopping, even when she reached the main door. She carried on walking, down both familiar and unfamiliar streets. She should have waited for Sir Edward, but she couldn't. She still felt sick and hurried down the nearest side street just in case. She leaned against the wall, aware that this wasn't very ladylike behaviour, and probably wasn't the best place for a lady anyway. The nausea passed and she took several deep breaths before heading back to the main street. Really, she should head to back Sir Edward's house but she was in no mood to see her father, or Matthew, just yet.

Almost without thinking, she had made her way to Trafalgar Square. She looked round and had a sudden urge to go to the National Gallery. No-one could disturb her there. No-one would be expecting her to answer difficult and confusing questions, but most of all no-one would be looking at her with a sad, pitiful expression. She drifted through, occasionally pausing to look at something that caught her eye, the only sounds were those of muffled whispers and shoes moving across the floor. Peaceful. Exactly what she needed. As she turned a corner into the next room, the large painting on the opposite wall caught her attention. She headed straight towards it, bending her head slightly to read the plaque.

'_Perseus and Andromeda'  
>Frederic Leighton, 1891.<em>

She arched an eyebrow and smiled to herself. She was right back at that dinner, so many years ago now, being unnecessarily mean to Matthew. Her breath caught in her throat. Ever since she had met him, everything had been turned upside down over and over again, and now…now it was all just a big mess. As she stared at the painting, eyes roving over every single inch of the textured canvas, she started to get lost in her own thoughts, dwelling on Matthew and Richard, and what he had said in the prison. She was so lost that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her, or the sound of a cane hitting the floor on alternate steps. She did hear her name called and turned automatically to find the source of the sound. Like some sort of cruel trick, courtesy of the universe, he was stood only a few feet away, frowning and open-mouthed at seeing her.

He had needed a walk, needed to get out of the confines of the house. He was fed up of waiting for them to return, fed up of his own thoughts. He hadn't gone out with a destination in mind, and was just enjoying walking through the London streets. It was a clear day and not as cold as it had been, and his back was not in too much pain. He had somehow ended up outside the National Gallery, and momentarily hesitated before going in. It had been so long since he had taken refuge here. He realised with a jolt that the last time had been in 1914, around the time of Sybil's ball. He hadn't had time to visit during the war. He walked around aimlessly, both enjoying and disliking the quiet. It gave him too much time to think, to over-think. Then he saw her. She was stood in front of a painting, obscuring it, so he couldn't see what it was. She seemed utterly engrossed. He moved a few steps closer, admiring her from afar. Her hands were clasped together behind her, holding onto her bag. Her back was military straight, but her head was tilted slightly to the left, as if she was thinking deeply about something. Which, he thought, she most probably was.

"Mary," it was barely louder than a whisper but she spun round on hearing her name, and was evidently just as surprised to see him as he had been to see her. Unknown to the other, their hearts were racing and they were torn between wanting to look away and not being able to tear their eyes away from the other. "What are you doing here?" He took another step forwards. "What happened at the prison?" She looked at him for what seemed like a very long time before answering.

"I can't…he signed the papers. I am to be divorced," she smiled brightly. Too brightly. It didn't reach her eyes. She had started to say something else but then changed her mind. Carlisle must have been vile to her. "And as to why I'm here, well I thought that would be obvious Matthew. It's a gallery; it's where one looks at art." She bit her lip, instantly regretting the sharp tone she had used. He was still frowning.

"No, I mean… Did Sir Edward accompany you?" He hadn't seen him, but on saying the other man's name, he looked around the gallery. He didn't want to be bitter, and he liked Sir Edward, he really did, but Carlisle's words and Mary's behaviour were niggling at him. Mary looked surprised again.

"No. I left the prison before he did and started walking, and I ended up here," she looked over him, having not looked at him properly all day. He looked pale and tired, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, which seemed to have lost some of their sparkle. He was leaning on his cane but was somehow also stood ramrod straight. She wondered if that helped his back, or made it worse, or if it was just a hard habit to break. His coat was unbuttoned but he had kept his gloves and hat on. It was quite cool inside the vast gallery. He realised that she wasn't going to offer any more information about the visit, just like he wasn't going to tell her about his meeting with Carlisle. He sighed inwardly. Always this constant battle between them…who could remain the most detached, who could give the most stinging blow. He changed tactic.

"What's the painting?" He caught the mirth that flashed through her eyes as he nodded to what was behind her.

"Perseus and Andromeda, by Frederic Leighton," she smiled wryly as she stood aside and turned back to look at it. He moved and stood next to her. He smiled warmly and their eyes met. It really was quite amusing if you thought about it.

"And do you like it?" He looked back to the wall. It was a very fine painting.

"I do. It captures the drama very well, and the contrast of colours is very striking. And the sea monster is just as hideous as I always suspected," he knew she was smiling as she said that. This was more like it. If he could just get her to open up about Carlisle…

"It's a good depiction of the hero as well though," he said after a minute, trying to make it sound like a joke and glancing at her sideways. The smile was gone. So, not that funny then. She sighed and he wondered where her thoughts were taking her. She wanted to move away from this painting, and the story behind it, and all that it meant for the pair of them. She was too tired for this, but she felt like was rooted to the spot. The longer they stood there, the more the atmosphere seemed to thicken around them. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. It was like that horrible walk to the church on Christmas Eve. Mary was feeling equally awkward. These silences astounded them both. They were both intelligent people and yet around each other they were reduced to awkward pauses and inane comments and poor jokes. Matthew felt suddenly frustrated. There was so much they needed to talk about, but he wouldn't ask and she wouldn't tell, not voluntarily anyway. Why were they both so stubborn? He tapped his cane on the ground, sending an echo through the room, and causing a few people to glance at them curiously. The noise startled Mary and she turned to face him, feeling like she might explode from what she wasn't saying but wanted to. Their eyes met and she smiled a bit too brightly at him.

"Perhaps we should be getting back now…" he nodded in agreement, there not really being much choice to do anything else. Their eyes searched each other's faces for a moment, looking for something…anything, and then Mary strode off, heading towards the main entrance. By the time he reached her, she informed him that she had requested a cab to return them to Sir Edward's house. They both sat looking out of the window, watching London go by, and still being unable to talk each other.

"There you are!" It was Sir Edward that opened the door to greet them. He was visibly excited. "Come straight through to the library," he called as he walked off and left them to shut the door, giving each other a confused look before following him. The library was a large and unorganised room. Books covered every possible surface, apart from a small space on the desk and the chair that sat next to it. He shut the door behind them and was pacing quickly and rubbing his hands together, reminding Matthew of an excited child at Christmas time. "We shan't be disturbed in here," he smiled at them both. "After I arrived back here, I had a visitor. Inspector Granger, who I have been working very closely with for many months. He had some new information for me." He paused, enjoying the puzzled looks on his guest's faces. "We've got him." He waited as it slowly dawned on Matthew, and then Mary.

"You mean for the murder of Mrs Bates?" Sir Edward nodded, smiling broadly. Mary's mouth was open in shock, and Matthew was desperately trying to piece together his limited knowledge to make it make sense.

"How?"

"There are several eyewitness accounts that have him arriving at her house at about quarter to five, and leaving at about half past six. There is also a signed testimonial from the housemaid of Mrs Bates, who let Carlisle into the house, where he claimed to be an old friend of Mrs Bates. The housemaid, a Miss Rose Sullivan, took tea to them in the sitting room shortly after his arrival. He then apparently asked to see his contract with Mrs Bates, sending her out the room to retrieve it. He then told Miss Sullivan that he had seen a rat and ordered her to fetch some poison to place in the room. She did as he asked, and he then dismissed her, telling her that her services were no longer required. There is a contract, stating that he paid Miss Sullivan for her silence that he was never at the house. The sum of money was more than her annual salary."

"But so far, this is all just coincidental. Is there anything that ties him to the murder without question?" Matthew was anxious. Speculative evidence was not enough. Sir Edward was still smiling. He had rather enjoyed his conversation with the Inspector.

"Oh yes Matthew. On a more thorough search of Mrs Bates' house, the police found an engraved cufflink bearing a crest and the initials 'RC'. It was on the floor and gives the indication that there may have been a struggle between them. The corresponding one was found at Carlisle's house, in his dressing room."

"They were a gift from his parents a long time ago. He told me. He wore…" Mary spoke distractedly, then realised what she had said and bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. "He wore them on our wedding day." She hadn't wanted to make any mention of that to Matthew. He felt sick even though he knew he had no right to be annoyed. It wasn't so much the reference to her wedding that made his stomach turn, more the intimacy that she, rightly, had shared with her husband. Sir Edward nodded, as if grateful for this new information. "What is your other evidence?" She asked, trying to steer the conversation back to its original course.

"Ah, yes. Fingerprints. All over the bottle of poison, matching ones that were taken from him in prison. The prints of Mrs Bates and Miss Sullivan were eliminated, and the prints of Mr Bates were very faint, indicating that it had been a long time since he had been in contact with the bottle. This is it. It's enough for the murder charge, but along with everything else, he will most definitely face the gallows." Matthew was glad of his cane to lean on. Mary had stumbled backwards to find something solid to rest against, just to remind her that this wasn't a dream, that this was real and happening now. "There's something else…" Mary's head snapped up and her gaze met Sir Edward's. "As yet, Carlisle is completely unaware of this new development. He will not find out from his lawyer until the second of January. It will then be published in the newspapers, at the request of the Inspector."

"Does he even know that he is suspected of murder?"

"No. Inspector Granger thought that if he knew he was being investigated for it, he might try even harder to hide things. It will hopefully go to a trial by Easter." Matthew looked at Mary, who looked like she had the wind knocked out of her, and who was also still looking at Sir Edward. Silence settled on the room, and Sir Edward noticed that his guests were still wearing their coats and hats. Time for some tea, he thought. Best get them distracted before he revealed too much. "On a more cheerful note, your father has invited me to join you all at Downton for your New Year celebrations." Matthew felt invisible. Mary only had eyes for one man at that moment.

"I do hope you accepted, Sir Edward. My mother is an excellent hostess," she smiled warmly at him, and Matthew realised with a jolt that it was the most genuine smile he had seen her bestow since they had been in London.

"I told him I would be delighted. It would not have been preferable to spend such a celebrated evening alone," he smiled sadly. It was his first Christmas in eight years that he would not be spending with his wife. Ex-wife. He shook his head, trying to forget. "One final thing Lady Mary, Carlisle signed the divorce papers as well. I just need you to sign them and they can then be presented to a judge. All being well, you will be free of him by the second, when the story breaks, and it is highly unlikely that you will be called for evidence."

"Thank you Edward," her voice was soft, and only one man caught the omission of the 'Sir', and it was not the man who had insisted she not use the title since their first meeting. "Excuse me." She left the room to go and find Robert, and Matthew turned to Sir Edward, feeling like he should try and remain calm.

"What did he say to her?"

"Mr Crawley, it is not my place to say. If Lady Mary wants to tell you, I'm sure she will. I will say this though, she hit him," Sir Edward smiled at the memory of it, and at Matthew's shocked expression.

"Hit him?"

"Yes. A rather satisfying slap to the face. She drew blood." Matthew smiled, in spite of himself, and wished he could have seen that.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed quickly as they prepared to head back to Downton. Mr Wilkinson arrived in the afternoon with the papers for Matthew to read and Mary to sign and he assured them that he would be visiting the judge as soon as he left. Not that he would ever say anything, but Mr Wilkinson left Matthew feeling slightly in awe. That Sir Edward's power and position extended to the law courts in such a way that Mary didn't even need to attend her own divorce hearing, amazed him. It would definitely be an interesting career move. He frowned at himself. He was confused and confusing himself. He needed to stop thinking and just let things happen for once.<p>

In two days, it would be a new year, a new decade. A new chance.

* * *

><p><em>2<em>_nd__ January, 1920_

_**Newspaper Man on Murder Charge.**_

Sir Richard Carlisle has lately been arrested for the murder of Mrs Vera Bates. Mrs Bates was found dead early last year, having been poisoned. Her former husband, Mr John Bates, was originally arrested for the crime, but has since been acquitted and had all charges against him dropped. Carlisle was already in prison facing criminal charges for blackmail and fraud due to his activities during the war. Inspector William Granger led the secret murder investigation and hopes to bring the businessman to justice. Carlisle's divorce from aristocrat Lady Mary Crawley was finalised on the 31st December 1919. She will receive a financial settlement, but her solicitor has declined to comment further. The murder trial will begin at the end of the month.

* * *

><p><em>Notes:<br>1. It is a real painting. I googled it and everything. I don't know if the painting was ever displayed at the National Gallery, but let's just pretend that it was there for the purpose of my chapter and Mary and Matthew's random little meeting.  
>2. And apologies for the general lack of detail about London and streets and where things are etc., but my geographical knowledge of London is extremely limited!<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_Well, we are now approaching the end…  
>Thanks again for reviewsalerts etc. I am genuinely touched that so many people like the story! Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

_4__th__ March, 1920_

"MARY!" The scream carried out into the corridor and she smiled at the waiting crowd before hurrying back in to her youngest sister, glancing at Edith's anxious face as she took Sybil's other hand. Every noise made Tom flinch. He was pacing outside the room, oblivious to the statements of Violet that this was no place for a husband and he should go away. Robert had invited him to the library, and he was now wishing he was there instead. There was nothing he could do for Sybil as she was being ripped apart. Well, that's what it sounded like. She had been very specific. No Cora. No Violet. No Isobel. Definitely no Tom. Only her sisters and Dr Clarkson and Nurse Barker from the hospital. Tom couldn't take it anymore as another scream pierced through the house. He almost ran to the library and was surprised at the calm and quiet that greeted him, compared to the chaos upstairs. Robert looked up and smiled knowingly as he entered the room, and motioned for his son-in-law to sit, but Tom was unable to keep still.

"I know it's difficult to hear them like that, but think of the end result," he smiled again. "They truly are marvellous aren't they?" Tom looked at him and Matthew lowered his own newspaper, both confused by the statement and the faraway look on Robert's face.

"Who are?"

"Women," he said simply, as if that would explain it all. He looked between the two younger men and sighed. "What they do. They carry a child for months and then…" he trailed off, noticing their slightly amused smiles. "Never mind," he couldn't explain it. They'd understand one day.

"I think that the soon-to-be grandfather is feeling sentimental," Tom teased, smiling warmly at the Earl. Another scream. They all looked towards the door. Not yet.

"I hope it's not putting you off Matthew…" Robert froze as he realised what he had said. Matthew's face dropped. It was unintentional, of course it was, but it still stung, even more than the hint to his and Mary's relationship.

"Not at all. Children are a delight. I hope to be an excellent uncle to baby Branson," he smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. He already felt uncomfortable being there at such a time. He had tried to get out of the trip but Robert had insisted, not knowing the state of things between Matthew and Mary. Since the trial had started…no, since her divorce was finalised and she was back to being a Crawley, things between them had slowly been getting worse. There was little conversation to fill the awkward silences when they were left alone. They were avoiding each other's gaze. They were avoiding each other if they possibly could. Both were still unaware of the details of the conversation the other had had with Carlisle. And both were feeling like their worst fears were being confirmed with each passing day. Mary's friendship with Sir Edward was blossoming; she didn't see him in _that_ way but Matthew didn't know that. All he saw was the object of his affections spend more and more time with a man who could give her infinitely more than he ever could. This in turn led to him becoming distant and closed off, which was leading Mary to seek Sir Edward's friendship, because Matthew was making it clear, to Mary anyway, that he was just about tolerating being near her during the trial. It was a vicious, never-ending circle.

A door slammed and footsteps hurried through the house, breaking all three out of their reverie as they hoped that this was it…

"It's a girl!" Mary burst in smiling and flushed. "She's healthy, all fingers and toes are correct…she's perfect. You can go up shortly Tom. Sybil did so well," she had done well. Mary had never been more proud of her sister. Robert stood and reached for Tom's hand to shake. He seemed to be in a state of shock. He hadn't moved since Mary had appeared, and then he seemed to register what Mary was telling him, and his face broke out into a huge grin and he took Robert's hand, and then Matthew's and then hugged Mary. Mary and Matthew's eyes met and they both looked away quickly. He knew that this would be hard for her, as much as she loved her sister.

Mary was dwelling on when she had told Sir Edward that she was unable to have children. It had only been a few weeks ago, and Mary had been in London to give her one and only piece of required evidence in the trial, and Sir Edward had told her that his sister was expecting a third child. Lady Catherine had married a politician, Sir (now Lord) David Martin, almost ten years ago, and they had moved to America shortly after their wedding. The Martins already had nine year old Sophie, and five year old Henry, but the new baby would still be a very welcome addition. Mary had smiled and said how wonderful that was, but then something inside had cracked and she found herself telling Sir Edward far more than she had intended to. He had simply nodded sympathetically and told her that she would just have to be the best possible aunt to all of the children that her sisters would have. You could get away with a lot more with an aunt than you could with a parent. She would be the one they went to when they felt that Edith or Sybil were being unfair. Mary hadn't told Matthew about this particular conversation. If she thought about everything properly, she hadn't actually told him anything of importance since she became Mary Crawley again, back in January, but then he had been just as closed off, saying only the bare minimum to her, just enough to get by when they were in company.

After a short while, and some brandy, Mary led the three men upstairs to Sybil's bedroom, to be greeted by Dr Clarkson, who shook Tom firmly by the hand. They entered quietly. Sybil had been cleaned up and put in a fresh nightgown, and was staring at the little bundle in her arms, her face a mix of ecstatic joy and sheer exhaustion. Violet, Isobel, Cora and Edith were stood watching them, smiling. They all said their congratulations and left Tom alone to be with his wife and new charge. Robert and Cora were overjoyed…their first grandchild. Everyone was excited, even the servants. The only people who were less than excited were Mary and Matthew. Their eyes met briefly as they headed back downstairs and what he saw in hers broke his heart…a sad, slightly haunted, longing look of what would never be.

* * *

><p><em>10<em>_th__ March, 1920_

"A telephone call, my lady," Carson appeared and directed his statement to Mary, who reluctantly handed the sleeping baby Anya back to her mother.

"Mary? It's Edward. I found out today that the verdict will be announced on the fifteenth. Are you and Matthew able to be back for then?"

"Yes, I should think so. How do you think they'll find him?"

"Guilty, but we shall have to wait and see all the same. Let me know when you're coming. Send my regards to your sister and her husband. Goodbye."

She went back into the room, taking a deep breath. "The verdict is due on the fifteenth. Edward wants us to go down for it. Is that convenient?" She couldn't look at his face. Instead, she fixed her gaze somewhere near his ear.

"Yes of course. Mary-" she looked tired, drained. The trial had been a huge strain on her, on him, on all of them. Luckily, Sir Edward's connections had prevented the story about Pamuk becoming public knowledge, and both he and Mr Wilkinson had seen to it that the finer details of the case were to be kept inside the courtroom, and anyone who breached that would face imprisonment. There was no point finishing what he had wanted to say. She didn't want him anymore; she wouldn't be interested. "Thank you. I'll go and find Bates and let him know." He left the room and she resumed her seat next to Sybil who handed Anya back to her, not minding at all that Mary liked to hold her so much. She understood her elder sister's pain now. Mary looked down at the little girl she cradled; wishing so much that the tiny baby wasn't reinforcing how much of a failure she was.

Robert had watched the exchange between them with interest. Something wasn't right. It hadn't been right for a while. He briefly wondered if it was because Matthew was annoyed that Mary had, in the end, decided to live back at Downton and not with her grandmother, but then he wouldn't have wished that on anyone. Every brief look they shared was filled with so much meaning but their conversation was so stilted and tense. He hoped it was just the stress of the trial, and not something else, but knowing his daughter, he suspected that it might be. He knew that Anya's arrival would not be easy for either of them, but they didn't even seem to be acknowledging the fact that just three months ago they had made a promise to get engaged.

* * *

><p><em>15<em>_th__ March, 1920_

"In the case of the crown versus Sir Richard Carlisle for the charges of murder, blackmail and fraud, do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"

"We find him…" the whole room held their breath. This was it. Mary squeezed her eyes shut and felt a hand gripping hers tightly. It didn't matter whose it was, just that it was there was comfort enough. As much as she would have liked to have done, she could not erase her few months of marriage to man stood in the dock. But she was free of him; she had received her settlement a few days ago, but had not yet had time to think about what she could do with all that money. "…Guilty your honour," the foreman of the jury nodded to the judge and sat back down.

The room let out a collective gasp. It was the desired and expected result, but the British public had loved the drama of such a high-profile court case. Sir Edward had ensured that his newspapers published as much of the information that he could, painting Carlisle as the villain that he was, with shady business deals that had denied those brave soldiers the help they had desperately needed, with many mistresses and illegitimate children that he had acknowledged, but mostly it was the framing of an innocent man for the murder of his ex-wife that had really rallied public opinion against Carlisle. Yes, it was definitely the desired result.

"Thank you. Sir Richard Carlisle, you are found guilty of the murder of Mrs Vera Bates. You are found guilty of blackmail, including blackmailing witnesses in a murder investigation. You are found guilty of fraud and doctoring your accounts during the years 1914-1918 to prevent aide going to the war effort. You were declared bankrupt shortly after your arrest, when your properties and finances were seized by the bank. After payment of your legal fees, and the settlement to your ex-wife, I decree that the remaining money will go to soldier's rehabilitation fund. For all of these crimes, you will be executed in a public hanging, with a date yet to be decided upon. Officers, please take the prisoner away. Thank you ladies and gentlemen." The courtroom stood as the judge left and they all started to file out. Mary looked at the hand still holding hers, and then into the blue eyes in front of her.

"It's over Mary. You're completely free of him, forever," Matthew smiled, his face seeming to relax after months of frowning. She smiled back, trying not to be too hopeful that he was suddenly being so friendly towards her. "I'll go and telephone your father." He walked off and she sighed, turning to Sir Edward to discuss the verdict but they were interrupted before either of them could speak.

"Well Lady Mary," Mr Michaels looked grave as he reached them. As soon as he had seen Sir Edward's evidence, he knew he had been fighting a lost cause. At least he would still get paid. "What are you going to do now you are a wealthy divorcee?"

"I have hardly thought about it," she smiled at the lawyer, feeling sorry for him that he had had a guilty client. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew appear back near her side.

"Well I suppose you could do anything; buy your own estate, travel to the continent or America…the world is yours for the taking." He seemed to be lost in a train of thought. "Well, good day," he nodded at her, then at Matthew, and Sir Edward and left, totally unaware that he had unwittingly planted the seed of an idea in one of their minds.

"Shall we?" Sir Edward had been strangely quiet all day. He was relieved that Carlisle had been found guilty, that this was finally over. Sir Richard Carlisle and his many indiscretions had dominated Sir Edward's thoughts and time for too long. Already though, he felt like he needed a new project to occupy him.

* * *

><p>Later that day, Mr Wilkinson had requested Matthew's presence at his offices to go over some of the details relating to the business in Manchester. He arrived back at Sir Edward's house and was told by Mr Johnson that Sir Edward and Lady Mary were in the drawing room having tea. He approached the room and heard soft voices and laughter, and his heart ached. She had not laughed with him since Christmas. He paused at the door as he caught Mary's voice, and what she was saying…<p>

"…I don't know, do you think your family would approve?"

"I have no doubt that they would embrace you with open arms," they both laughed. Matthew's stomach dropped and he leaned closer to the slightly open door.

"Well, in that case, my answer to your question is yes. But we must keep it a secret for now, at least until things are settled." He shut his eyes. Surely not… It sounded… Had he just heard Mary accepting a proposal from Sir Edward? His head was spinning and he thought he might pass out. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. He turned away and headed straight back to the front door, leaving without a second thought.

"I wonder where Matthew has got to. Wilkinson doesn't normally keep his trainees so late," Sir Edward smiled at Mary, who was replacing her cup against the china saucer.

"It really was so kind of you to offer Matthew a job. I'm sure he's very grateful," she smiled back at him.

"How do you think he'll react to the news?"

"Not well. But it's for the best. He'll understand that."

* * *

><p><em>8<em>_th__ April, 1920_

**Carlisle to Hang**

Sir Richard Carlisle will be hanged in a public execution. He was found guilty of murder, fraud and blackmail last month. The execution will take place on the 13th of April at eleven o'clock in the morning at HM Prison, Wandsworth, and is open to all who wish to attend.

* * *

><p>"If you don't want to go, you don't have to. You're not married to him anymore," Robert turned to face his daughter. The whole family was arguing about who would go to watch the hanging. Mary thought it was morbid and had no desire to be there but everyone was insisting that she should be. Everyone except for her father.<p>

"Mary dear, are you sure you don't want to see him hang?"

"No thank you Granny. I don't want to be there at all. You all go if you wish but please don't make me." She paced around, exasperated. She just wanted to be left alone to ignore the next few days. She glanced round the room at her family, and for a moment felt strangely detached from them. She excused herself on the pretence of needing fresh air, and found herself leaving the house, and heading to her favourite bench. She frowned as she sat down. Matthew was just outright ignoring her now, and had been since the day the verdict had been announced. So, he really didn't care for her. She sighed and sat back. At least she had something to look forward to. Not that she had told anyone about it yet, there just didn't seem to be a right moment for bringing it up.

On re-entering the room, she was informed that her father, her grandmother, Edith, Tom, and Anna and Bates would be going to watch the hanging. She already knew that Sir Edward planned to go with Matthew and Mr Wilkinson; well she imagined that Matthew was still going, no-one had said otherwise. Cora was going to stay with Sybil and Isobel at Downton. She really didn't care as long as she didn't have to go to the wretched thing. The only thing they asked of her was that she accompany them to London, which she didn't mind too much about as she had some business to attend to.

* * *

><p><em>11<em>_th__ April, 1920_

Mary was nervous. She played with her necklace and tapped her fingers against the book she was pretending to read. Why weren't they leaving? She checked the time…quarter past nine. Why make plans for a day out if all you were going to do is dawdle?

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us Mary?" Edith was hovering near her, picking up on Mary's agitated state of mind.

"Quite sure. You go and enjoy yourselves. I just want some peace and quiet for a little while before I visit my friend."

They all looked at her, some believing her, some not. In two days her ex-husband was going to be hanged and she was being more cagey than normal, as if there was more than just that on her mind. Matthew was one of the ones who did not believe her. Something wasn't right. Since arriving back in London the day before, she had been jittery, and constantly checking the time. He tried not to think about it. She had promised herself to someone else and should no longer be any of his concern, but he just couldn't help it when he saw her chocolate eyes constantly flick round the room, not settling on anything or anyone. No. He shook his head once, squeezing his eyes shut. A gesture not unnoticed by Sir Edward. He was as puzzled as Robert. Considering that at their first meeting, Matthew had spoken of his intentions towards Mary, and it all seemed settled between them, they barely spoke now. They didn't even really look at each other. He wondered if it had something to do with Matthew's coolness towards him now. Ah. Pieces of a puzzle started to fit together, and an idea started forming. He was glad that he had them under the same roof for at least another two nights. He had thought about selling this house. It had been Madeline's idea to have one so large. After he had sent her away, he wanted nothing more than to leave and find somewhere much smaller. There was only him and his small number of household staff. But now… In the past few months, the house had never been busier and he was genuinely happy that he had the means to offer his new friends a comfortable place to stay while they were in London.

They eventually left. Sir Edward had arranged for some visits for them; private houses and museums, things like that. Mary had excused herself almost immediately, claiming visits to old friends. She didn't care if they believed her; it was none of their business. Not yet anyway. She waited for almost half an hour, until she was certain that they would definitely have left the area, before putting on her hat and coat and leaving.

* * *

><p>The man opposite her looked surprised after she had finished her speech.<p>

"Well, that is certainly a lot to take in. Are you quite sure that this is what you want Lady Mary?"

"Yes it is. I have had some time to think about it, and I think it will be the best course of action. How long will it take to sort out?" He pulled out a pocket watch and thought for a moment as he looked at the time.

"Oh not long at all, no more than an hour or so. If you'll just wait here while I attend to the matter. Would you care for some tea?" She accepted and he left the room. She let out a deep breath, and felt some of the tension within her disappear. She was doing this. Part of her felt giddy with excitement, the other part was scared, but it was a good sort of scared she thought to herself. A secretary brought in some tea and she poured herself some, but she was unable to drink the sweet brown liquid, nervous energy flowing through her and making her fidget. She went to the window and looked out at the view. It was a pleasant day outside, sunny and mild. The door opened behind her and she jumped as he reappeared clutching a large brown envelope and some papers.

"All done, I just need you to sign here," he handed her a pen and pointed at the page. "And here…and here," she signed the indicated places with a flourish and handed him back his pen.

"Well, there you go Lady Mary," he smiled kindly as he handed the envelope to her. "I wish you the very best of luck."

"Thank you," she smiled warmly at him, collected her things, and headed back to Sir Edward's house.

* * *

><p><em>13<em>_th__ April, 1920_

The atmosphere over breakfast was a mixture of tense and excited. Mary was trying not to feel anything. Yes she was glad that Richard had been convicted of his crimes, and yes she was also glad that she had managed to divorce him before all of this, but that Tom and her grandmother were excited to watch a man die did not sit well with her. Matthew, Bates and her father were more subdued, having seen death up close…having caused deaths. Unconsciously her eyes flickered from her tea cup to Matthew, who met her gaze during his own brief glance up from his plate. They both looked away. Everyone else had started to notice the tension between them now, but no-one was quite sure what they could do or even say. She was trying so hard not to think about him. He didn't want her. She had to try and move on. No, be positive Mary, she scolded herself. There is no 'trying', you _are_ moving on. They retired to the drawing room to wait until the cars were ready to collect them. Anna and Edith stayed near Mary, trying to engage her in conversation, but she was distracted. She was watching Matthew pace around the room, pleased that now it was warmer he didn't need his cane anymore and he moved with more ease than he had all winter, when she was suddenly overcome with the urge to cry. She whispered her excuses to Anna and hurried out of the room, hand covering her mouth trying to hold in her sobs, as she let herself into the library. Everyone had watched her go, but had not thought anything of it. They just assumed it was the stress of the upcoming events getting to her.

She hoped that no-one would follow her; that they could just leave her be for a minute, while she composed herself. She liked Sir Edward's library. It was so different from the one at Downton, but she felt just as comfortable there. She paced around taking deep breaths and running her hands over the stacks of books. The door clicked open. She didn't even have to look up; she just knew who would be there.

Try as he might, he just could not stop caring, could not stop himself going after her. "Mary," he spoke softly. She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. It was the first time they had been alone in weeks. It was the first time he had spoken her name so softly in months. It would probably be the last time. She still hadn't told him; still hadn't told anyone. "Mary, look at me. Please," he willed her to open her eyes. They were brimming with tears. "Mary, I just wanted-" he took a step closer to her just as the door opened again.

"Ah, there you are. We're nearly ready to leave Matthew." Sir Edward had glanced at Mary before turning his attention to Matthew, his face expectant. He wasn't leaving the room without the other man. He nodded and followed, leaving her wondering what on earth Matthew had been about to say. Matthew was baffled by the other man's behaviour. He didn't appear to be treating Mary any differently than he had before. He didn't look like a man who had recently gotten engaged. Matthew wondered how long it was to be a secret for.

They left, with Edith and Anna squeezing her hands as she said goodbye to them. Today was an ending, of sorts, for some. A clean start for others. Bates and Anna had finally been able to live as a married couple, and were so happy that it became slightly sickly if you were around them for too long, not that anyone would resent them their happiness though.

She telephoned her mother. Everyone at Downton was fine, especially the baby. She went to her room and went through her belongings, packing away the things she knew she would not need on the rest of the trip. She checked the time. She had fifteen minutes before she had to leave. She double checked that she had everything she needed, put on her hat and coat, and informed Mrs Johnson that she would be back for luncheon.

* * *

><p>They arrived back at the house in an odd mood. Violet was oblivious, having enjoyed seeing her beloved granddaughter's former husband pay for his crimes. Bates was trying not to feel too happy about it, but no-one judged him when they caught him smiling. Carlisle had, after all, framed him and kept him from Anna. Everyone else was feeling calm but excited, nervous but confident. Edith sniffed into her handkerchief, surprised at her own reaction to seeing a man she disliked hanging like a doll.<p>

"Brandy anyone? I think we deserve one!" Sir Edward handed Johnson his things and headed into the drawing room. Everyone else left their things with the butler and housekeeper and followed their host.

"Johnson, where is Lady Mary?" Sir Edward spoke above the bustle of everyone taking their drinks.

"Isn't she with you sir?" the room fell silent.

"No. Should she be?" He frowned. Matthew had paled, Robert and Violet looked uneasy.

"That is what she told me, sir. That she had some business to attend to but would be back for luncheon because she had decided to go to the prison after all and would be returning with you."

"What time did she leave Mr Johnson?" Anna spoke, breaking the silence, a suspicion already formed in her mind.

"It would have been about quarter to eleven Mrs Bates," the butler bowed his head and left the room. They all looked between each other uncertainly when suddenly Anna rushed out of the room after him and ran up the stairs to the room Mary had been staying in. She opened the door and looked round, noticing nothing different about the room. Her eyes spied something on the bed. It was a stack of letters. She squeezed her eyes shut, picking up the envelopes. She opened her eyes and saw that the top one was addressed to her. She looked at the other three: Sir Edward, his Lordship and the rest of the family, and Mr Matthew. She tore it open and quickly scanned over the neat, familiar handwriting, before sinking onto the edge of the bed and re-reading it more slowly, understanding but at the same time not. She took several deep breaths before wiping her face and heading back downstairs.

"Anna, what is it?" All eyes were on her and what she was clutching. They took in her now pale complexion, her red eyes. She closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the tears that were again prickling. Robert stood but moved no closer.

"It's Lady Mary," she took another deep breath. "She's gone."

* * *

><p><em>Cue Eastenders drums.<em>

_Also, Anya is a traditional Irish name meaning "splendour, radiance and brilliance", just in case anyone was wondering._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Gone? What do you mean gone? Gone where?" Violet voiced the confusion that everyone was suddenly feeling.

"I'm sure Sir Edward can answer that," Matthew snapped and everyone looked at him curiously. "Where is she?"

"I can assure you Matthew, that this is just as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. I am sorry to say that I don't know where she is."

"What do you mean you don't know? She's your fiancée!" Matthew shouted in fury, stunning the room into silence once more. Unconsciously, they edged closer, circling.

"What?" Robert had moved closer to the other two, needing an explanation, and soon.

"Sir Edward is engaged to Mary," saying it out loud made it all too real. Matthew felt sick. He turned away and ran his hand through his hair.

"No I'm not." Suddenly everything became a lot clearer to Edward. Matthew turned back and looked at the other man, who looked absolutely baffled.

"Yes, you are."

"No. I'm not, and why on earth would you think that to be the case?"

"I heard, overheard… On the day of the verdict… You were talking and she said "my answer to your question is yes" and you were talking about whether your family would like her and that you had to keep it secret…" he trailed off. Edward's mind was scanning through back to that day until he remembered the conversation, his face relaxing as he realised where the misunderstanding lay.

"I'll admit, it doesn't sound good, but please let me tell you Matthew, tell all of you, that Mary and I are definitely not engaged."

"Then what did Matthew hear you talking about?" Sir Edward turned to face Robert at hearing his question. Everyone else was just sat watching the spectacle unfold before them. It looked like there might be a fight.

"Excuse me Mr Crawley, but there is a telephone call for you. It's Mr Wilkinson," Johnson appeared, interrupting, and Matthew sighed before leaving the room. No-one spoke. No-one quite knew what to say.

"You don't think she'd…do something stupid do you?" Bates said suddenly but quietly. Everyone turned to look at him, their faces set in a frown.

"What do you mean?" Edith's voice was soft and anxious.

"He means would she do herself in." Tom answered, staring at his brandy glass, as if he wasn't even aware he'd said it out loud. Edith gasped.

"For god's sake, of course she wouldn't. And don't go saying things like that around Matthew," Robert almost shouted. They all looked uneasily at each other, some of them thinking that actually, at that moment, it was a very real possibility that she might indeed do something stupid.

"Don't say what around me?" He had reappeared in the doorway, his face pale, and his eyes full of sadness. He looked around them as they tried to avoid his gaze.

"Bates thinks that Mary might be intending to do herself in. I doubt very much that she would, but I suppose you never know." Violet shrugged as they took in her words.

"Thank you Mama. Perhaps we should leave the speculation for now. Anna, what you are holding, did Mary leave them?" Anna had forgotten all about the envelopes in her hands.

"Sorry my lord, yes. They were on her bed. There's one for you, one for Sir Edward, and one for Mr Crawley," she handed them out before going and sitting next to Bates and showing him her letter. They all stayed silent as they read over her letters to them, each one different.

* * *

><p><em>My dear friend Edward,<em>

_There are not enough words to express my gratitude at your kindness and hospitality over these past few months, and the generosity that you have also shown towards my family. I will never forget it, and I will be eternally thankful. Please don't think me ungrateful by leaving in this manner, but you know that it is for the best. I am going to New York. I will stay with my grandmother but I have written to your sister, and I hope to meet her while I am there. I will write when I am settled._

_Thank you._

_Your friend,_

_Mary._

* * *

><p><em>To my family – Papa, Mama, Granny, Edith, Sybil, and Tom,<em>

_I know that you will be shocked by my actions, but it is something I have thought about for a while. I need to do this. For myself. I need to give myself a chance of happiness, and I no longer think that is possible at Downton. I will stay with Grandmama until I am settled, and then I hope to purchase my own establishment, where you will all be welcome to visit. I will miss you all terribly._

_Sybil and Tom – I hope to receive regular updates on little Anya! Cherish her. Cherish each other._

_Edith – fall in love. Be happy. Do something for yourself._

_I love you all, and I will write as soon as I can._

_Mary._

* * *

><p><em>Anna,<em>

_I have known you for a long time, and I consider you a friend. I hope that you would consider me the same. It is with great sadness that I leave, perhaps forever, but I know that it is for the best. I wish a lifetime of happiness for you and John, and may you have lots of children for me to spoil! And so to New York I shall go, where both of you will always be welcome. I have left some money for you. I know that if I had given it in person, you may have refused, but you must not or I shall be offended!_

_I will write when I am settled._

_Mary._

* * *

><p><em>My dearest Matthew,<em>

_I hardly know where to begin. I am truly sorry for leaving without telling you, but if I had told you, I think you would have tried to stop me. I love you so very, very much, but I am afraid that you no longer love me. I make you unhappy, and it's time for you to move on and find someone who will make you happy, someone who deserves your love. You really are one of the best men I have ever known, and I will be so proud when you take my father's place as the Earl of Grantham. He could not be leaving the estate in better hands. Please be happy for me as I embark on my new life, as I will be happy for you._

_It's for the best. I'm sorry._

_Goodbye._

_Mary._

* * *

><p>"Oh god…" Matthew's hoarse whisper rang out through the room as he read and re-read the letter, sinking into the nearest available chair and covering his face with his hands.<p>

"Matthew, what is it?" He straightened up and looked at Robert.

"Wherever she has gone…she has made it clear that she will not be returning."

"Matthew, she's going to America," Edith spoke uncertainly. It had been in the letter to her family, and it had been in Anna's letter. An unrecognisable look crossed his face.

He stood, and hurried out of the room, muttering "excuse me" as he walked past the others. His letter lay fallen on the floor, almost forgotten until Anna moved to pick it up, her heart breaking as she read it and passed it to Sir Edward's open hand. Once finished, he passed it to Robert.

"Oh my poor chap," he moved towards the door to go after Matthew but felt a hand on his arm.

"Please, allow me," Sir Edward smiled briefly and left, having an idea as to where Matthew might have headed. He walked through the kitchen and sighed when he realised that he was right. The door out to the garden was swinging shut, as if it had been pushed open in a hurry and with great force.

Matthew was stood with his back to house, looking out onto the manicured garden, and the grey clouds that were starting to roll in in the distance. She had told the others where she was going, but not him. How could she say that she loved him and yet still treat him like he didn't matter? He felt sick and his eyes prickled with tears. He hadn't felt such an urge to cry in over a year. Everything hurt.

"On the day of the verdict, Mary was anxious. I think that the trial affected her more than she wanted to let on, and I said that if she ever wanted to get away, to avoid the press, she would be more than welcome at my sister's house in New York. She decided then that she would go. I was asking her if she was certain that was what she wanted to do. She didn't want to tell anyone until it was all settled. I didn't think she would go today, of all days," he swallowed thickly, trying to understand himself why she had left.

"Then you really don't know her," Matthew's voice was bitter, and he turned slightly as he sensed the other man approach his side.

"No, perhaps not as well as you do, but I still consider her to be a very dear friend," Matthew snorted at that, and Sir Edward frowned. "I told you Matthew, I knew her attentions were directed elsewhere, and I would never be so… I would never assume that her feelings for you could be swayed by me. They weren't swayed by Carlisle." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. He knew that Matthew must be hurt by her letter. She hadn't even told him where she was going.

"And what do you know of her feelings? About me? About Carlisle?" He was speaking quietly, still unable to look fully at the man next to him, as anger and hurt pulsed through him in equal measure. Sir Edward turned his head slightly to look at Matthew's profile. Heartbreak. Anger. Pain. All of it was written across his face, in the frown on his brow, the tension in his jaw, the faint glassiness to his eyes.

"Matthew please, I am not the enemy here. She has told me hardly anything. You would have to be blind not to notice the way she looks at you, at the way you look at each other, the way your eyes follow each other round the room, the way you gravitate towards one another… It is obvious to everyone where your feelings lie, except perhaps to each other. Quite simply, it's fascinating," Sir Edward clasped his hands behind his back and followed Matthew's gaze out to the horizon. Matthew didn't know how to respond to that. It always felt like an instinct with Mary. He hadn't realised that everyone else had sensed that as well.

"What would you do?" His voice was quiet and broke the almost deafening silence between them. He turned to look at his host, who was beaming, mischief playing in his eyes.

"Me? I'd go after her, try to stop her, and if she'd already left, I'd follow."

"I can't-"

"Let me say this, please. If you don't go after her, and she finds someone else, falls in love and marries them, then you will regret it for the rest of your life." Matthew studied Sir Edward carefully. Whatever he had thought about the other man for the past month vanished when he saw his happy, eager, almost childlike, expression. He meant everything he said. He flushed slightly as he remembered his earlier outburst, ashamed that he had behaved so badly to a man who, really, had been nothing but kind to him.

"How… Where do I even start?" Sir Edward's face broke out into an even bigger grin, which was not something that Matthew had even thought possible, but before he could answer, a deep roll of thunder crashed through the now black sky, startling them both.

"I think we should discuss this inside!" He called as fat drops of rain started falling over them.

* * *

><p>"I am hoping that the weather will now buy us some time," he said as he strode back into the drawing room, noticing the disappointed looks on the faces of the others as they reappeared, slightly damp but with no signs of the fight they had secretly been hoping for.<p>

"What's going on?"

"Matthew is going to get Mary back," Sir Edward said, almost amazed, because it was incredibly obvious if you thought about it. "The storm that is now raging outside will give us time. No captain would want to start travelling in such bad weather," he rang the bell for the butler.

"Yes sir?"

"Johnson, will you please find out which ports are sending ships to America in the next couple of days. I want every single one around the country. I also want weather reports for the week," he was still smiling, but he was also now pacing. Everyone else watched him with great amusement. The butler nodded and left.

"Sir Edward, forgive me for being rude, but what exactly are you hoping to achieve?" Violet silenced the room, her eyebrows arched and her hand gripping the top of her cane.

"My apologies Lady Grantham. If Lady Mary left this morning, then I assume that she was planning to travel later today or in the next couple of days. Her letters give the impression of wanting to leave as soon as possible. If there are storms today, then any crossings will be delayed, at least until tomorrow. There is a chance that she may not be travelling from here. She may have headed to Portsmouth or Plymouth, or even Liverpool. I hope that if this is the case, then there will at least be time to get to her." He poured himself another drink before handing the crystal bottle to the first hand that reached for it, surprised when he looked up and saw that it belonged to Lady Edith.

* * *

><p>They waited with bated breath for Mr Johnson to return with some information, but he did not appear. They went in to lunch, but there was still nothing. It was nearly five o'clock before Mr Johnson entered the drawing room to find them talking quietly (Lady Edith, Mrs Bates and Lady Grantham), pacing (Mr Crawley), or reading newspapers in silence (Sir Edward, Lord Grantham, Mr Bates and Mr Branson). They all looked up as he entered, his master folding up his paper and crossing the room to him.<p>

"What have you discovered Johnson?"

"Well sir, all crossings to America this week are departing from Liverpool, because it is believed that the weather will be too severe in the south. It will remain clearer in the north. There is a train to Liverpool at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. The boat is due to depart at one o'clock."

"Thank you," he nodded at the butler, who vanished as silently as he appeared. "Well, there we go. To Liverpool in the morning."

"But we can't all go, surely? What if she isn't planning to go this week? What if she has simply gone elsewhere, to Portsmouth or Southampton say, and plans to cross from there?" Robert looked at his daughter in surprise. Truthfully, that thought hadn't occurred to him, but now that Edith had mentioned it… Robert and Sir Edward joined Matthew in his pacing, as if somehow, the continuous motion would aide their thought process.

"Why shouldn't everyone go?" Anna frowned.

"If we all turned up, she might think that we were trying to stop her," Matthew spoke softly. It seemed like an odd thing to say because that was exactly what they were planning to do.

"I am sure I could find contacts at the ports. We could go in small groups to each port and ask around at the local inns and hotels," Sir Edward was visibly excited at this new development to his plan.

"Do you think we should telephone Downton and let them know there what's going on?" New worries and concerns were surfacing in Robert's mind. "I wouldn't want to worry them…"

"No but they deserve to know. I'll telephone, and speak to Sybil. She can break the news to everyone else," Tom left the room.

"Well Sir Edward, you have a very unorthodox way of doing things, but I must say I am impressed," Violet smiled at him, before glancing at Matthew, who was staring off into the distance, obviously distracted. She would do anything to get her favourite granddaughter back with him.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sir Edward and his guests headed to Kings Cross station with a plan firmly set in their minds. It was half-past eight. In half an hour, Matthew, Anna and Bates would be heading to Liverpool, Tom and Edith would be heading to Portsmouth, and Robert and Mr Johnson would be heading to Southampton. Sir Edward would remain in London with Violet.<p>

"Hopefully, you will make it in time, but I have a plan if not. You must remember to get in touch as soon as you get there. Best of luck to you all," Sir Edward smiled and nodded at them as they made their way to the different platforms.

"How do you think they'll fare Sir Edward?"

"I hope, very much, Lady Grantham, that at least one of them is successful. And I hope even more that it is the Liverpool bound party." She nodded and they made their way back to his car, to his offices, to wait.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry my lord, but there's been no-one here of that name to buy a ticket. I've asked around and there's been no-one matching her description either. Sorry sirs," the porter bowed his head to Robert and Mr Johnson, before heading back into his office.<p>

"What do we do now sir?"

"I think Johnson that we have to telephone Sir Edward and make our way back to London. I hope the others have more success." The butler nodded as he followed the Earl back to the train station.

* * *

><p>"Lady Mary Crawley. She's tall and has dark hair and brown eyes. We think she would be travelling with only a little luggage," Edith was fed up repeating herself. This was the third person they had been directed to. The man shrugged and Tom intervened.<p>

"Look, she's missing; we just want to know if she's been here and if she's bought a ticket to cross to America."

"Excuse me, can I help?" Another, more senior looking porter appeared and the man in front of them straightened up.

"Yes. I'm trying to locate my sister. We don't know if she's here for definite but…" Edith trailed off, frustrated.

"Her name?"

"Lady Mary Crawley," he nodded and excused himself, before returning a few minutes later and giving them a shake of his head.

"Sorry Lady Edith. Let's go. I just hope the others have more luck," she nodded at her brother-in-law.

* * *

><p>"Do you know the way to the docks Mr Crawley?"<p>

"I think so, but it's been a long time since I've been here," he frowned as they left Lime Street Station and looked at the unfamiliar city in front of them.

"There's the Royal Liver Building. It's on the waterfront. Maybe if we head towards there," Bates somehow ended up leading the way. "The docks should have an office where we can telephone Sir Edward."

"What time is it?"

"Quarter-past twelve. We should make it in time. I just hope she's here."

They hurried through the streets as much as they could, twice having to stop and ask for directions, with Matthew becoming increasingly frustrated at his own lack of geographical knowledge of the relatively small city. It was smaller than Manchester for goodness sake. Bates was not used to the fast pace that his wife and Matthew were using and he soon found that his leg was starting to ache more than usual.

"Would you mind if I stopped and rested for a minute? You go on ahead. I can call into an inn and telephone Sir Edward."

"We had better hurry then, it is twenty to one!"

"What? Come on Anna!" They ran off, leaving Bates watching after them, before he headed into the nearest pub. He hadn't mentioned that in the distance he had the chimneys of an ocean liner. Matthew was panicking. They had minutes to find her. To stop her. Oh god he hoped she was here. Anna picked up her skirts and started running, Matthew reached out his hand to pull her along, both of them hoping for the best but fearing for the worst.

They reached the docks and stopped dead in their tracks. The liner loomed large in front of them, and there were people everywhere. They'd never find her in…seven minutes. Matthew groaned as he replaced his pocket watch. As each second passed, the more convinced Matthew became that she was there, already on the boat, having already caught the eye of a rich American who was on his way home. He shook his head and tried to rid himself of those thoughts.

"Anna we're going to have to split up if we've any chance of finding her. If we meet back here once the boat has left…" he didn't want to think about that. She couldn't leave, she just couldn't. Anna nodded and they headed into the crowd.

"MARY!"  
>"LADY MARY!" Their shouts mingled with the hustle and bustle of the dock. They quickly lost sight of each other. Matthew's heart was racing; he couldn't see anyone that even vaguely resembled Mary. Just then, a horn sounded. Everyone turned to look at the boat, and started waving and cheering.<p>

"No! NO! MARY! MARY!" But it was futile. He could not be heard over the engines of the vessel or over the crowd of well-wishers cheering as the ship slowly pulled away. Matthew pushed his way through the crowd to get to the edge of the water to try and see the passengers a bit better. "MARY! NO!" The crowd started to thin as they left, heading away from the docks. Matthew stood watching the ship sail off into the distance. It was too late. They were too late. Not that they even knew for sure that she had been there. His head dropped, an overwhelming sense of sorrow filling him. He didn't know how long he'd been stood there when Anna appeared at his side, still trying to catch her breath. The boat was long gone.

"I'm sorry Mr Crawley," she gently placed her hand on his arm, pulling him back to reality.

"Thank you Anna. We should go and find Bates," he blinked back the tears that had treacherously filled his eyes before turning and looking at the sad woman in front of him.

"Perhaps Lady Edith or his Lordship found her. We didn't know if she would be coming here," saying it as much for herself as she was for him. He nodded, unable to speak. With heavy hearts, they slowly started to walk away from the docks. Bates was waiting for them at the entrance.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking in their grave expressions. He knew how much Lady Mary meant to his wife, and to Mr Crawley. "I spoke to Sir Edward," theirs faces looked hopeful for a fleeting moment before they took in his own sad expression. "The others are back in London already."

"So, she was here then."

"You don't know that for certain. Come on, let's go and get something to eat. Then we can go back to London and plan for tomorrow." He didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to curl up and be left alone with his pain. It was so raw and ripped through him, and made him hurt in a way he never had before. She had left. Left him, them, everything, because of his actions. He saw then that he had pushed her away. He had been too detached. He hadn't reassured her that he loved her, that he still wanted to marry her. It was his fault. All of it. The realisation made his heart break all over again. There would be no recovering from this.

"There's a place just coming up here. It's where I telephoned Sir Edward from. It seemed decent enough." They nodded and followed Bates silently, with Matthew falling behind and watching as Bates reached for Anna's hand, feeling another pang that he would never be able to do that with Mary. The pub was clean and pleasant enough as they entered. The man behind the bar smiled at Bates in recognition. The clock in front of them said that it was nearly two o'clock. How had an hour passed? It didn't feel like it had.

"Three halves of beer please," Bates ordered the drinks as Anna led Matthew to a seat and he sank down, the epitome of a broken man.

"You can always book your own crossing. Get the address off his Lordship and follow her to America. There'll be another boat in a day or two." Anna didn't know what else she could say to him. He was devastated.

"Excuse me, Mr Crawley. The landlord wishes to speak to you," Bates reappeared and set the tray of drinks down on the table.

"Me? What on earth for?"

"I don't know." Matthew sighed and stood up, making his way over to the man Bates had indicated.

"Mr Crawley?" Matthew nodded. "Follow me please sir."

"I'm sorry I really don't understand what this is about. I have money to pay for the drinks if that is the problem." They stopped outside a room. Anxiety settled on Matthew. "If you would be so kind as to tell me what's going on…" he trailed off as the man opened the door.

"Just in there sir, if you wouldn't mind." Matthew entered, suddenly afraid of what would happen if he didn't. The door closed after him and he turned to look into the room. His heart stopped and he had to do a double take. Stood by the window, watching him with slightly red eyes was...

"Mary! What… I thought… I thought you had left," he finally found on the words, but they didn't seem right. She smiled weakly.

"Well, it was my intention. I take it you got my letter."

"Yes. I… Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"

"You would have tried to stop me." Not a question, or an accusation, just a fact. "I knew the others would tell you anyway."

"We've been so worried. Why would you leave and not tell anyone?" She flinched as he raised his voice. That was an accusation.

"I wanted to… This has been the most difficult decision I have ever had to make Matthew. But I had to make it. For once in my life, I had to do something for myself and not to please my family or society, or you," her voice broke on the last word and she raised a handkerchief to her face as fresh tears started to fall, turning away from him as she broke down. The only sound for several minutes was an occasional sniff and her breath hitching as she tried to calm down. He didn't know what to say. Nothing that would be comforting. She was an aristocratic lady; everything she did was for outside appearances. How could he begrudge her the independence that he took for granted? She turned back round to look at him, and he took in every detail of her face, how she held herself. She was looking at him with a similar purpose. Storing the details for memories. Their eyes met.

"What are you doing here? We watched the boat leave. We thought… I thought it was too late," he spoke softly and took a step towards her.

"I had been about to board the boat when a porter found me and told me there was an urgent telephone call. I was then told that I had to come here and wait."

"Bates?" Matthew's expression softened as he realised that the other man must have made the call as soon as they left him.

"Bates," she repeated with a smile. He took another step towards her. "Well, not just Bates. Edward as well. Bates telephoned Edward. Edward telephoned the port offices. He told me…what you thought was going on." He froze, his shame from the previous day returning and washing over him.

"I'm so sorry Mary. If I hadn't been… This is all my fault," he squeezed his eyes shut, thinking over the past few months. "Why didn't you talk to me?" he said loudly as anger broke through his initial shock at seeing her.

"I could ask you the same," she retorted quickly, her voice was cool but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. He took a step back. The air around them was heavy and full of absolutely everything; the entire history of them. Various thoughts were fighting for their chance to be voiced, and he was trying to remain calm. Trying to understand. They stood, just watching each other, neither of them moving, just concentrating on trying to slow their racing hearts.

"If you're still planning to go, I don't want to fight Mary. I would like us to part as friends, if we can," she looked at him and saw that he meant it. How was it possible that his eyes could show so much sorrow? "If I knew…if I had asked you to stay, would you?" The question surprised her.

"Maybe. But it's too late for that now. Don't you see Matthew, I have to leave. All we do is hurt each other. How could we ever be happy?"

"Because you love me. And I love you. And every time we come close to admitting that, something gets in the way; the war, other fiancés. But there is none of that now. It's just us." He took several steps towards her. This was it. He had to get this right. "We've lived our lives separately, but now it's time to live them together," he looked into her eyes, those beautiful chocolate eyes, searching. "Every time I have told you how I feel, I've meant it," he reached for her hand. She did not resist or pull away as his cool fingers closed around her own, and she vaguely realised that she was glad her gloves were sitting on the table as she felt his smooth skin against hers. They both smiled shyly at the contact, unable to stop themselves from looking at their joined hands.

"Oh Matthew, how can you be sure that it would even work between us now?" She looked back to his face, knowing that her own was now full of hope.

"Because it is what we both want, and we have to at least try. Isn't it worth an attempt? Don't we deserve some happiness at all?" He licked his lips as he saw her expression. Hope. Happiness. Love. She didn't want to go any more than he wanted her to leave. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck and she dropped her gaze. He stepped forward again, leaving just inches between them. He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin on the back of her hand, smiling to himself.

"Yes, I…I suppose we do," she was still looking at his hand on hers. How nice it felt. How _right_ it felt.

"In that case, Mary-" she met his gaze once more as he spoke, biting her lip as she tried to stop her smile.

"If you're going to say what I think you are… Well you must say it properly. I won't answer unless…unless you kneel down and everything," she beamed at him, heart fluttering. He sighed before returning her smile and slowly kneeling on the floor, maintaining his hold on her hand.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" He looked up into her eyes and wondered how he could have missed the pure, unadulterated love that radiated from them. As she looked into his icy blue eyes, she felt foolish for ever doubting his love. It was written all over his face.

Time stopped.

"Yes," he stood up, matching her smile with a broad grin of his own. They leaned in at the same time, lips and hands coming together in a passionate embrace. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, holding her tightly. Her hands gripped onto his shoulders.

He pulled away breathless and smiling, "so, are you staying then?"

"I think I better had," she kissed him again, tenderly this time.

"Well, we should probably go back to Downton as soon as possible then."

"Why?"

"Well my dear, we've got a wedding to plan!" She giggled as he embraced her again and lifted her, spinning her around the small parlour of the inn. They broke apart and she gathered her things together before lacing her fingers with his and squeezing his hand affectionately. They beamed at each other, opened the door and headed out to meet the future. Their future.

* * *

><p><em>I don't know if passenger ships ever left from Liverpool (really I should know, I lived there for 18months), but never mind. I think I've already mentioned to ignore any historical inaccuracies! Also, I know it gets a bit cheesy, but my soppy romantic self cannot be restrained and I firmly believe that every great love story needs a chase through an airporttrain station/etc._

_And yes, the ending was borrowed from the perfect perfection of the Christmas Special (am seriously still going on about it to every random person I meet), but no-one should mind, because it's all happy._

_Thanks again for reviews/alerts/favourites etc. _


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_23__rd__ December, 1922_

Mary curled up on the armchair with her feet tucked underneath her. She opened the book on a page that it had been opened on often. The stiff paper of a letter fell out into her lap and she picked it up, eyes drinking in the black ink. She didn't need to read it. She knew exactly what it said, but she read it all the same, smiling at the familiar words.

"_To my beautiful bride on our wedding day,_

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments, love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove..._

_This is still my favourite._  
><em>I am yours forever.<em>  
><em>Thank you. I love you.<em>  
><em>All my love,<em>  
><em>Matthew."<em>

"I am yours you know, and I do thank you, sincerely," he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his arms folded, his blue eyes sparkling in the low light. Her head snapped up and colour flooded her face. He was stood without a jacket, or waistcoat and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened, the top button undone...she lowered her gaze, still surprised at her reaction to his relative state of undress.

"How did you-" She was embarrassed. She hadn't realised that he knew where she kept it, that she had even kept it at all. She dropped her head, biting her lip, hastily replacing the letter inside the book and putting it on the table next to her. He frowned. He didn't want her to feel guilty or embarrassed about it. He thought it was wonderful.

"Because every time you read, you pick up that book, and you pull that piece of paper out, and I was curious," he interrupted her, and was suddenly crouching in front of her. He caught her gaze and kissed her, reaching for her hands and pulling her up to stand, twisting slightly as he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Her feet were dangling over the arm of the chair, and she rested her head against his chest, one hand lacing her fingers with his, while his other stroked her back. He kissed the top of her head.

"What time are we leaving tomorrow?"

"Ten o'clock. The Bransons and Edward will be meeting us at the station." She snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth and the comfort he gave her. "Then the chauffeurs are meeting us when we arrive."

"Chauffeurs?" he looked at her, confused.

"One is Edward's; he's driving up early. They'll be too many of us for just the one car, what with the luggage as well." He nodded, pulling her hand up and kissing it. She reached up and pushed his hair out of his face, then let her hand trail down his face and back to his chest.

"Christmas at Downton," he smiled into her hair.

"Better than Christmas in Manchester," she gently teased.

"You didn't seem to mind last year."

"No. But there is not really a choice when one is snowed in," she said in the haughty tone he had not heard in a while, and he chuckled quietly at her lingering annoyance from the previous year.

A noise startled them both, and Mary had moved in a flash to the source, reaching down for the small mewling bundle. She cradled it, rocking and cooing softly. He watched for a moment from the chair. He had never been so happy. There stood Mary, his beautiful, adoring wife...the joy he felt at being able to call her that after they had waited for so long, still filled him with so much pleasure that he almost ached from it. And she was cradling their baby son. Robert Edward Crawley was three months old, with big blue eyes and a shock of dark hair. They had a nanny of course, but it was only very recently that Mary had actually started to leave him for more than just eating and sleeping. Matthew had drawn the line at her actually sleeping in the nursery though, and she had reluctantly agreed with him. Her days were full of her son, often just sitting holding him, looking at him, singing and reading to him, unable to stop smiling. The love she felt for him was so different to what she felt for Matthew, but just as overwhelming in its intensity.

Matthew stood behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, and he smiled down at his little boy, their own little miracle, who had been rocked back to sleep by his mother's soothing voice. She placed him carefully back in the bassinette with a soft kiss to his forehead, and leaned against Matthew, whose arms wrapped around her waist, and he kissed her on the neck affectionately, both of their hearts bursting with love and happiness as they looked at their baby.

"Thank you," he whispered. She would never know just how grateful he was that she had carried and safely delivered their child. How grateful he was that there even was a child, especially after what they had both been through. He would never know just how much love she felt; she could try to explain, but there were not enough words to describe the pure joy she felt when she looked at her baby. Their baby. And part of her wondered if it was because he was Matthew's that he even existed. Wondered that if before, the unborn child inside of her had somehow sensed that there was no love or happiness in that marriage, and had made its escape to protect them both. She covered his hands with her own and squeezed them in acknowledgement of his words.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and they would be travelling to Downton to be with the people they loved best in the world. They had a wonderful healthy little baby. They had each other. They were deliriously happy.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

_**Fin.**_

* * *

><p><em>And there it is; the end. Thank you so much to everyone that has readreviewed/alerted/added the story to their favourites. I genuinely mean that, from the bottom of my heart. The response I got from you for it was, honestly, a little overwhelming! I am nervous about my writing and tend not to let anyone see it, but I'm so glad I shared it!  
>Again, thank you. :-)<em>


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